At Risk Youth
by MalfoysBtch22
Summary: Edward was just your regular thirteen-year-old kid from the Seattle slums with a secret crush on his older brother Emmett's girlfriend crass but beautiful Bella. He never believed in his dreams of even putting a hand through her hair would come true but in the cold of the night, it throws them into a very secret relationship causing the question, what is consent?
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

When Bella turned nine, her mother brought a llama to her birthday party. It was the only birthday party she'd ever had, and the only she ever would. Her mother had been sober for eighty-eight days, sixty-five more than ever before, and they'd been the happiest three months of Bella's life. Phil, her mother's boyfriend, was a man of the program. He knew the slogans, had worked the steps, and knew the risks of dating a newcomer; especially one that'd made a habit of being a newcomer. But something seemed different about this time—and Renee. The pitying tone with which the old-timers kept telling her, "Keep coming back," had turned to one of hope, even admiration. Bella had never had hope for Renee, let alone admiration, but she was starting to dream. She could picture one day, long in the future, standing from the stage at her high school graduation, waving her diploma triumphantly, and seeing Phil and her mom beaming back from the audience, hand in hand, years of sobriety radiating off them.

Bella had never seen her mom in the kitchen except to open a bottle or blearily stab at the microwave to heat up a Hot Pocket and shove it, oozing molten cheese, into Bella's hand for an almost forgotten dinner. Over the last year or two, dinner had become completely forgotten, and Bella had learned to heat her own Hot Pockets.

She liked Phil a lot. She had never had steak, never had mashed potatoes except out of a box, but Phil had a grill, Phil told her that meat had to be not just cooked, but rested, which didn't make much sense to her then, but it tasted like nothing else. At first, when the meat was presented to her with a smile, medium-rare, her stomach had clenched, but after repeated coaxing, she'd taken a bite, and within seconds had devoured the entire strip.

"She's got an appetite on her," Phil had laughed, and Renee had laughed too, but gingerly, as if remembering the particular painful note of pleading a small girl had to hit before her drunk of a mother would bother to heat up a frozen dinner.

But today in the kitchen there was a blur of activity, her mother and Phil trading places easily like flying fish crossing paths on the great Pacific, magically producing devilled eggs, guacamole, even a fruit platter. He had brought a fountain that poured fresh chocolate, and Bella thought it was practically the coolest thing she'd ever seen. She took taste tests, as her job was to break up the chocolate, but good as that was, it was better to have an excuse to hang around the kitchen while Renee and Phil cooked and laughed and swatted playfully at each other, their arms seeming to find each other's waists as if guided by sonar, and even at her age she had seen enough to think, _Who are you, and what have you done with my mother?_

Parents struggled to find parking on the dead-end street, Mrs. Robinson from next door waving the unluckiest into her driveway, and followed the hand-painted arrows around the house with its screen door hanging on one rusty hinge and threadbare curtains to the small patch of backyard. Bella stood in the one dress she owned. It was reserved for funerals and picture day. You could look back at every year since the first grade and see her growing, baby teeth going, adult teeth coming in, and still the same blue dress, although it hung higher on her shoulders now, and the hem was too short.

The first to arrive around back was Angelique, Mrs. Robinson's youngest. She was two years older than Andy, but the proximity and lack of suitable playmates on the block had forged a friendship. The Robinsons' story wasn't unique for Yonkers—black family, three children, different fathers, single mother; they were what the stuffy anchors on the news called _at-risk youth_ , but Bella was jealous of them. There was never shouting from the house next door, except a quick, "You quiet down now, or I'll whoop your ass!" but even that sounded like there was a smile behind it, and she had never seen Mrs. Robinson passed out in the front yard or asleep for two days or carting armfuls of empty bottles out to the trash.

The parents led their children cautiously around the house and into the yard, hands clasped, the way you would if you passed a pit bull on the street, because even leashed something seems dangerous. Eighty-eight days was an eternity for Bella and her mom, but the other parents didn't forget so quickly. Once they passed the splintered gate, the kids burst from their parent's hands brandishing presents, which Bella had never received before. It made her feel strange to know that all this love was for her. She had never even been to a birthday party since she'd known she'd never have a present to give, and now there were boxes and envelopes being piled on the fold-out table in pretty-colored wrapping, a shiny blue one Angela Weber had brought calling her name.

The party was in full swing, people downing devilled eggs, the kid's teeth stained with melted chocolate, and the parents had settled down into comfortable chatter, even pulling Phil aside to ask for his guacamole recipe. All the while Bella's mom seemed out of place, like she was being paid to be there, tossing empty soda cans and paper plates, even napkins that had been set down momentarily, smiling too wide with an actress's grin, suddenly seeming aware not of the eighty-eight days but of all the dry long years ahead.

At four o'clock the llama came, led by a man in dirty overalls who smelled worse than it did. The kids whooped, the adults clapped, Phil letting out a cheer…but not her mother, who was nowhere to be found. Bella didn't notice, too excited by the llama, whose name was Bob and who wore a funny hat Phil said was called a fedora that Bob kept trying and failing to brush off. Bella was petting Bob and trying to set his hat right, basking in the glory of the day, when she was sideswiped, almost knocked off her feet, by a big wet kiss that missed her cheek and nearly smacked her on the eye. It carried a stink she knew too well to forget, as much as she'd thought she had.

"Look at the camel, baby!" her mother exclaimed, pointing with one drooping finger, and in her eyes Bella saw clouds gathering, and the party, the presents, Bob, were all gone.

Bella is five years old again, and she has come through the door alone, dropped off by a fellow parent, her mother missing in action after the twelve o'clock dismissal. She comes through the door, calling for her mom, and the only responses are the dead noises of an empty house, the ticking of the radiator, the tired hum of the fridge. Through the living room, which smells of a cigarette left burning, she sees a blanket crumpled like a jellyfish stranded on shore. Calling for her mom, and no answer. Beneath the cigarette smell, there's another one, sour and sharp and somehow, in a scary way, familiar, but never like this, never so strong. Through the kitchen into the back hall, and then it hits her again at the same time she sees the yellow-brown spatters on the wallpaper. Around the corner the bathroom door is ajar, and the light is flickering. She hits it at a run, crying for her mom, and it barely budges. Through the crack in the door she can see hair bunched like popped threads, brown like her own, only thinner, and throw-up everywhere. On the sink, on the floor, in her mother's hair, trailing down to the limp body on the floor. Bawling now, she runs to the phone, hits 9, 1, 1, and when the lady answers asking what the emergency is, she says, "It's my mommy, my mommy's on the floor again."

The party is still in full swing, her mother still keeping up with everyone's trash, but she's not there, not really. She's missing in action. Bella's the only one to notice, until Phil does, and then everyone does. Piercing through the laughter and conversation comes a high wail through the open kitchen window. It takes Phil all of two minutes to collect his jacket and the fountain, sloshing chocolate onto the cuffs of his pants, and flee. In the sudden quiet, the nervous chatter of bottle against glass, and then the woman herself, the mother Bella's always known, makeup running dark streaks down her face and mouth going before she's even gotten the door open, calling with sickly sweet hate, "You can all go home now!" and even when Bella had dared to hope, she'd known there would be something like this, a scene, disgusted parents and frightened children scattering like geese, honking for their cars. Mrs. Robinson just laughs and leads the way, and in minutes, the party has dwindled to Bella in her blue dress, Angelique finding anyplace to look but at her, and Bob, doing his business in the dead patch in the corner of the yard.

"Angelique, you come on home now!" Mrs. Robinson calls from over the fence, and then, to Bella, "I'm sorry, child. Maybe next year."


	2. Chapter 2

"Thanks so much!" Bella called as the front door jingled closed, and then, under her breath as she stuffed the two dollar bills into her apron, "You cheap fucks."

She bussed the table herself; Julio didn't work Fridays, and Mario was shit at just about everything but lifting stray quarters out of the register. Outside, the only sound was the steady patter of rain against the windows except for the odd engine revving on Route 9. It was September-slow, and she'd been there since eight in the morning. Weak white day had given way to night; through the entire dinner shift she'd had three tables, and she was holding out hope for being cut early. Emmett had gotten off at six, four hours ago; maybe, she thought, she could have something like a normal night.

Rob was doing a register count when she walked by, furthering Bella's hope. She brought the tray of dirty dishes into the kitchen, operating on autopilot. When she made the return pass Rob didn't look up, just said, "Bella, you can hang it up for tonight."

The first thing she noticed upon pushing through the ladies room door was the new artwork. On the mirror, some budding Picasso had written: BIG FAT PUSSY. She didn't stop to consider whose pussy or why exactly its size and girth needed such emphasis, just shucked off her apron and headed for a long overdue piss. More wit on display in the stall, phone numbers, boasts of who was willing to put out and for how much, and this wasn't even the men's room.

Bella tipped out Mario unwillingly. He thanked her with an uncomfortably long, clammy handshake. She nodded to Rob with a quick, "See you tomorrow," and then she was out in the rain, wishing she owned an umbrella, wishing more that she could be in Emmett's bed at that very moment, asleep. She had no doubt, though, that sleep was hours away. Before then there would be the fifteen-minute trek through the wet and the cold, the pretending to enjoy herself while Emmett and his buddies, already a rack of Bud deep, played Call of Duty, and then finally, getting what little pleasure she could from Emmett's whiskey dick.

As she finally rounded the last corner, it occurred to her to do an about-face, to go collapse in her own bed and make some excuse to Emmett tomorrow afternoon, but as much as she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to be alone. Bella didn't like to think of herself as relying on anyone, especially her boyfriend, but the idea of being held on such a bitter night sounded good, or at least necessary. If anyone needed to understand the quicksand of where she'd grown up, they'd only have to look at Emmett. Only three years ago he had been a hero, captain of the football team—and as ridiculous as it sounded now, there had been a time when that mattered to people, even, as much as she hated to admit it, to Bella. But football was just a game; you had to win a kind of lottery to be able to play professionally, and even if you got to those heights, there was another lottery you had to beat to have anything like a career; Emmett had one year at Pace before a security guard busted him taking a shit through the provost's sunroof, and the only title he'd held since was pump jockey.

Sometimes she hated herself for being so easily swayed by him. He hadn't had it easy, had a mom working two jobs to raise him and his little brother, but no one she'd known had had it harder than her, and even in the worst of times, when everything seemed to be going wrong, she'd look at herself and say, at least I'm surviving. So how had she been so short-sighted, not to see that today's high school hero would inevitably become tomorrow's burnout, she wondered, adding another cigarette butt to the pile she was building on Emmett's front stoop. It was one thing to peak at eighteen, but it was something else entirely to choose someone who was destined to peak at eighteen, and to still be with him three years later. She was the only truly level-headed person she knew—Angelique sure said so—but she'd still fallen into the trap…unless it wasn't a trap, but a choice. A conscious choice. That was what scared her.

The door was unlocked, and she steeled herself as she came through the threshold, ready to be her best self, her most loving, supportive self, not really a self at all, cooing placid praise while she watched Emmett take drunken shots at pixelated Nazis…but there was no Emmett. She came in through the kitchen, which was quiet and still, and instead of the whooping of failed frat boys on parade in the living room there was only the sound of the TV, pitched up high, blaring some old movie. She was soaked to the skin and dreamed of Emmett curled up on the couch, passed out, ready to be coaxed to bed where she could, give or take a handjob, sleep at last someplace warm and dry, ready to erase the day…and again, there was no Emmett. She came into the living room to find Edward, Emmett's little brother, sitting eagle-eyed on the couch in ripped jeans.

"Hey," she said.

He looked at her. For Edward, this was a process. He took her in a bit at a time while she crossed the room and flopped onto the couch, both disappointed and elated that it hadn't been Emmett waiting for her. On the TV a kid was trying to convince his mother that his doll had come to life.

"Hi," Edward said at last, trying to focus on the movie and not the dripping girl who had just draped herself onto the opposite arm of the couch, arms spread like she owned it. He'd been making an effort not to stare at Bella since he was ten years old. Now that he was thirteen, certain switches had flipped in him, certain lights had come on, and he was acutely aware of his own breathing.

She looked at the coffee table in front of the boy. It was so crowded with beer cans that Edward's bottle of Mountain Dew looked dwarfed in comparison. Oddly, Bella found this endearing.

"So what happened here?" she asked, jutting her chin towards the table.

He shrugged. "Emmett and his asshole friends."

"Lotta fallen soldiers."

"Not surprising. They monopolize the TV all night with their stupid shoot-em-up games and I have to wait till he passes out to watch anything I like."

They watched the TV in silence for a moment. The doll, who had in fact come to life, was running rampant.

"What is this even?" she asked.

He looked at her. He shouldn't have. It gave him an awkward twinge. Looking away was so much harder than not looking in the first place.

"It's Chucky," he said. He felt bad for her that she hadn't known. Didn't everyone know about Chucky? It made him feel like he had some small leverage, that he wasn't totally out of control around this girl who was so much herself that she soaked up all the oxygen in a room just by walking into it. His mom was working days taking dictation at a law firm in White Plains and nights as a cashier at the local ShopMart, but she would have scraped together every last penny to put Bella in a wedding dress tomorrow if Emmett popped the question. Bella kept Emmett in line, as much as anyone could. Everyone knew it, even Edward, but he wondered at night when sleep wouldn't come what was in it for Bella. The thought of making an effort not to look at her for the rest of his life made his stomach turn.

"So? What's his story?"

"He's a killer doll. Well, it's not actually him, it's this, like, serial killer who gets cornered by the cops and puts this voodoo spell on the doll to, like…transfer his essence into it." _Stop talking._ "Anyway, some stuff's about to go down."

"Sounds stupid."

She moved into a more comfortable position, stretching her back against the arm of the couch with feline grace that belied her soaked T-shirt and the studded metal necklace that read for all the world to see: BAD BITCH. Edward assumed she didn't wear the necklace at work, or at least tucked it away, but he wouldn't have been surprised if she did, daring someone to say something. That was her way, balls out, fuck you, take me or leave me, but she never made him feel little or less-than. He respected her for that. Her mouth always just as foul. He just wished that the very act of her moving didn't make his pants feel so much tighter, didn't change all the currents of air in the room like an underwater earthquake sending a tsunami crashing onto shore thousands of miles away.

"What do you mean? Chucky's awesome."

"Whatever."

He looked again, unable to help himself. He was becoming surer by the second that he was right about what he'd been guessing from the moment she walked in, that she wasn't wearing a bra, and a thin layer of wet cotton was the only thing between him and her. Did she know, though, that drenched as it was, her white shirt had turned translucent? She must not know. It made him feel wrong, filthy for being able to see everything while she sat there oblivious, but he kept staring. The huge swell of her breasts, the way they dipped toward her stomach, perfectly round except for the pink peaks of her nipples standing out against the shirt. He should say something, maybe give her a dry shirt to wear. She must be uncomfortable after the long walk through the wet, cold night, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't. He was taking advantage. He knew he was, and he felt sick again, felt wrong, but it excited him too, and he kept his mouth shut, knowing too that this moment might never come again.

 _Look away at least. Jesus._

She moved again, and the moment broke. He tore his eyes away, back to the TV, as much as it hurt. She rummaged in her pockets and brought out a battered pack of Newport 100's. Before he could say anything, she lit up, and they sat in silence again, her thinking God-knew-what, him consumed with her very presence.

"You know my mom doesn't let people smoke in here," he said just to have something to say, although he knew Bella could have gotten away with anything, and he definitely didn't have it in him to stop her.

She looked at him for the first time, mouth turning up into a crooked smile. "Emmett does it all the time."

"I know, but she still doesn't like it," he mumbled. She was still looking at him, and now leaned forward a bit. Just a bit, but he felt the hair on his arms go erect.

"I won't tell if you won't," she said, and fished for an empty beer can to ash into. "So, any of the usual suspects?"

"Huh?" He glanced over. She had turned back to the TV, which relieved him. And drove him crazy.

In her corner, Bella could feel his gaze, naked and eager yet still somehow completely innocent. She'd had men staring at her since her tits came in seemingly overnight when she was twelve, but this was different. His eyes were searching her, questioning; at his age, he probably didn't even know what it meant to want, only that he did. At the same time, she thought, _You know, when he gets a little older, he's gonna have panties dropping from Morris High to Ghetto Square._ She had never seen him as anything but a kid, and an annoying one at that, witty in his own way. That's how it is with people; you see them the way you're used to, but every now and then you wake up and they're different.

"Who was over tonight?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Usual crowd. Suspects. You know."

She tipped ash into the can, went to set it down, then stopped. You could hardly see it, had to look twice to be sure, but there was a thin smear of red lipstick on the rim.

"Any girls?"

He looked again, startled at the sudden hardness in her voice, and again, his eyes strayed from her face down the body the shirt was plastered against. She really must be cold, he thought.

"Uh, one."

"Okay."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh, she was really annoying. You know, real high-pitched voice, rooting them on while they were playing that stupid game. I thought my head was going to explode."

"Does Emmett have girls over a lot?"

"No. I don't know."

There was something in his voice, and she studied his face. He had been nervous before, trying to be cool about it, but now he was shut off from her, like he was struggling to hold a door closed in a windstorm.

"Does he?"

"I mean…I don't…"

She leaned forward. "Edward?"

"Well…there's this one, but she's only been over a couple of times."

She sat very still, and the who, what, and why didn't come to mind. That didn't matter. She felt angry, but in a cold way. It was almost like a relief—no. A release.

"That piece of shit," she said. She felt like spitting.

"I'm sorry," he said impulsively.

"That fucking asshole," she said, shaking her head, and inside, she was filled with light, clarity.

Edward's face felt hot. He groped for words, came out with, "She's way too young for him. She wears way too much makeup too."

She zeroed in on him. "How young? Tell me."

"Some high school girl. I don't know, she's not even that pretty." Before he could stop himself, he added, "Not like you."

"Figures."

 _She didn't hear me,_ he thought, not knowing if he'd wanted her to.

Bella had heard. She felt the warmth of his attention and appreciated it, the earnest truth behind it. He was too young to play the game, to try to manipulate or maneuver. He just thought she was pretty and had said so, and a wild thought came streaking through her mind, _Maybe I can meet someone like him._

Her cigarette had burned to the filter without her noticing. She dropped it into the can, seeing the lipstick, and wondered if it was even from tonight, from the girl who'd been over, or if it was an old can, if it had been _her_ can, that unknown slut who'd fucked up her world and set her free. She should get moving, go home, get some sleep. She knew that. She fished out another cigarette and lit it, leaning back against the arm of the couch, her necklace clanking heavily against her throat.

 _I have to say something_ , Edward thought. _I have to keep her here._

"Well, kid," she said as if reading his mind, "I guess you're not gonna be seeing me around here anymore."

Panic drenched him. He darted his head towards her, and now there was no awareness of the wet T-shirt and what she was unknowingly showing off, only that deep need, that thought flashing along with his galloping heart: _No, no, no._ He'd wanted her to know, had needed to be the one to tell her, but now she would be gone, and he wished desperately that he could take it back.

His mouth opened, and words came out. "Can I have a drag of that?"

He didn't know where the question had come from, but it had the right effect. Her eyes cleared, and she looked into his eyes, really seeing him, he felt, for the first time all night. "You don't smoke."

"Just, can I?"

Her crooked smile came back. She debated back and forth in her head, but not really. They came from the same swamp, and he was going to try it sooner or later, and for some reason she liked the thought of her being the first to show him.

"Here, brat. Smoke up," and even though on any other night she'd have given him a fresh one from the pack, instead she offered him hers, straight from her mouth.

He took it between fingers that were trembling minutely in the weak flicker of the forgotten movie, pinched it like he was about to toke a J. Bella laughed. Edward didn't seem to notice. He was nerving himself up, and with one sudden fluid motion brought it to his lips, inhaled, and coughed ash from the tip all over the room like scorched confetti.

Bella exploded, clapping her hands against her thighs, throwing her head back, her laughter filling the house. Edward wondered dimly if it might wake up Emmett, but the thought didn't worry him. He felt as though there was some charm at work, some protective magic that would leave the two of them alone here, on this couch, for as long as necessary. For what, he didn't know, only that they were safe as long as Bella kept laughing.

"How do you smoke those things?" he spluttered with teary eyes, waving the cigarette away. She plucked it expertly from his fingertips and brought it back to her mouth.

"If you're smart, you don't."

The two settled back into silence, each pretending to watch the movie, each wondering why Bella was still there, but it was easier now. Something had changed between them. It was comfortable now, and something more. There was a need in the room. A need for what? Neither knew, but both of them felt it. Edward should have been humiliated by what happened with the cigarette, but the opposite happened. He felt at ease. He felt like himself, maybe for the first time, but at the same time, he felt Bella's gravity pulling him, dragging at his eyes, at his mind. Again, he looked, and he had never seen anything as beautiful as her in that moment, with her hair plastered limply against her head, her doe eyes as blue as any ocean, and all he kept thinking of was the sweater he should have offered but hadn't, and didn't.

"What are you staring at?"

Her voice pierced him, and again, he felt filthy. Only now she knew. He turned back to the TV, but his willpower had melted away, and he kept glancing, taking in little sips of her.

"Nothing," he said. He was lying, and they both knew it.

Bella had never been wanted like this. It was innocent and dirty, a needing that somehow didn't feel vulgar, but sweet. Tender, in spite of its clumsy eagerness—or maybe because of it. For the first time she saw herself from outside, no bra, drenched to the bone, shirt clinging to every curve, every inch of her, and he hadn't said a word. She felt shame, being exposed this whole time and completely oblivious to it. She was wet. He had seen her wet. He had made her wet. Now she was the one who felt filthy. He was thirteen. She had been at his birthday party at Dave & Busters, envying, had given him her tickets to trade for a comb that popped out like a switchblade and started shedding teeth after the third use. He was…a kid? But. They both knew.

"Oh my god," she said, pulling the wet shirt away from her body, but she had her curves, she had her tits, and her nipples were still poking against the cotton, and at the same time, she wanted him to see. She thought of something Angelique had said back when Bella was still in high school, fumbling towards adulthood: _Baby, just cuz we pretend doesn't mean we don't want it._

"What?" Edward said, beet red, twitching on his side of the couch. What did a person do with their hands, exactly? He put them at his sides, and they came back up on their own, twisting together, and he settled them into his lap, trying to hide.

"What are you…?" She saw. "Oh…my _god!_ "

" _What!?_ " Edward cried. Could a person die from shame? But…was this even shame?

"Do you have a _boner_ right now!?"

The question echoed in his ears like a gunshot in a supermarket. What did one say, exactly, when one's treacherous dick made a lie impossible?

"No…"

"You do, don't you? Feeling me up with your eyes. You little pervert!"

 _Bury me._

"I…I, uh…"

 _Bury me now._

"You really have a boner right now."

Her eyes were glittering. _There's something wrong with me_ , because, let's not lie, for the first time that she could remember, she was enjoying herself.

"I don't know," he said in a small voice.

"Were you really staring at my tits this whole time?" she snapped, biting back a smile.

"Not just your tits," someone said with Edward's voice.

She looked at him, really looked. He was cute for his age, she had thought that. But…no. He was cute. That was what she'd really been thinking, been feeling.

He had withdrawn from her, trying to melt into the couch, but she kept looking, not giving him an out, and after some long seconds, he summoned something inside himself and looked back, looked with his hazel eyes, full of embarrassment and need, into hers, and said with a voice beyond his years, "What?"

"It's okay, Edward."

"What is?" he asked, denying it with his voice, resisting the denial with everything else, especially his eyes.

She lit another cigarette and put the pack down, but instead of drawing back into her corner, she leaned forward and touched her hand to his face, holding it there, his chin in her hand. It felt incredibly smooth, incredibly hot, but his mouth was parted, and his eyes locked with her in awe.

She withdrew. She was glad the movie had ended and the credits were rolling black into the room, because she wouldn't have wanted him to see her face. She was burning too.

"You ever even been with a girl, Edward?" she asked.

"Sure," he said automatically.

"You've kissed a girl?"

"Yeah, I mean…at movies and stuff."

She pulled her legs back against her, tucking in, and ashed her cigarette. "Ever get to second base?"

"I've touched boobs before."

"Oh?" she said, and there was no denying it. She was having fun. "What'd they feel like?"

"Like…I dunno. They were…small."

"So, some little middle school girl's mosquito bites?"

"I guess."

Edward was looking anywhere but at Bella, and Bella was looking full-on at Edward. Something in her felt that she should just get up, walk out, tip the cigarette into the street and never look back, but something else, something stronger, something sick, kept her glued where she was.

"You were looking at me."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry."

He looked at her suddenly, angrily. "Okay."

She smiled. "Have you ever seen a pair?" There was something outside her that was controlling her, egging her on. _I'm not going to do this, come on. I'm not going to_ —

"No, just…felt them. You know, through the shirt and stuff."

"Come here."

"What?" He wanted to be anywhere but here and nowhere but here.

She did it suddenly, hiked up the hem of the shirt, past her stomach, her breasts catching for a second on the wet cloth and then falling into place, the tits her mother had once called her moneymakers in a venomous drunken rage but that were nonetheless her favorite part of her body, and Edward looked. Edward stared, drinking her in, and it was strange how much of a difference something so small could make. She had expected to be undressing in this place at this time, but now she was doing it one room over, and it wasn't the repetition of so many underwhelming nights she was feeling, but something she hadn't felt in forever. Or ever. And he hadn't even touched her yet.

 _Yet?_

"All right, you know…just so you get a sense, so you feel what real tits feel like."

"Huh?"

"Edward?"

"Hmm?" he said, eyes wide and unmoving, like a man in a spell.

"Give me your hand."

She didn't wait for him to move or even respond, she just reached out and took his small hand in hers, brought it to her. He watched it go the whole way, hypnotized. When she touched it to her breast, he gasped, and her mouth parted, something inside jarring loose.

"Touch."

Slowly, as if he might break her, his hand came alive, running over her. Two of his fingers, still jittering, still hungry, closed over her nipple, which was so hard it hurt, and she moaned.

"You can use the other hand too," she breathed, and in an instant it was there, squeezing, searching. His thumb ran over her nipple, and she bucked forward in an involuntary spasm.

"Am I doing good?"

"You're doing so good," she said. "Come here."

Edward's conscious mind, which had dwindled to almost nothing, had become convinced that he would wake up at any moment, sweating, cum soaking his boxers, but he shut it out. He moved towards her, this girl he knew from so many frustrated nights but had never known at all, and his tongue darted out on its own, running over her nipple as a spike of pleasure ran up his spine. He felt her breath on his ear, and he wanted more, still more, and sucked her breast into his mouth, still tonguing her nipple. This time she didn't hold back. She let out a cry, arching her back, giving herself to him, and any self-possession he had left broke. He sucked, sucked. Her hands were running over his copper hair, clenching and releasing.

"Touch me," she breathed.

Before he had even registered what she'd said she grabbed one of his hands and thrust it between her legs, and he could feel the dampness even through her black slacks.

 _Jesus, doesn't she wear any underwear at all?_ he thought wildly.

"No, _touch me_ ," she said, and now their hands were working together, shaking electrically, working at her button, her zipper, and no, no underwear, she was naked under her pants, smooth except for a fine bit of stubble. He saw a nick where she'd cut herself shaving and thought, _I want to kiss her there, I want to kiss her, I want._

All his experience except for a clumsy fumbling at the last Transformers movie had come out of a book, from health class. It was one thing to hear the rote description, _The vagina lubricates itself in preparation for intercourse_ , and another to feel her dripping over his fingers, to hear her panting in his ear, her tongue laving at his earlobe, biting, sucking indecently and uncontrollably. Go inside. She might have said it, he might have only thought it, but even though he knew nothing about what he was doing, he knew exactly where to find it, and he pressed into her. She cried out again as if it was being torn out of her, and he felt a sharp delicious pain when her teeth closed over his shoulder.

"I want to show you something," she panted.

"What?" he gasped.

His dick was pressing painfully against his jeans. It seemed to have a mind of its own, knowing and wanting what was coming, but of course this had to stop at some point, didn't it? This was some holiday from reality, too good to be true, he kept thinking even as she coaxed his jeans open and then off, even as she pushed him off of her, gasping sharply as his fingers were pulled out of her, even when she tossed her hair back, collecting it with one absent hand, bent over him, and took him into her mouth.

Bella didn't know what she'd expected. A nice, innocent, shy, barely pubescent, training-wheel dick, she supposed, but the feel of him, the girth, took her by surprise. He was eight years younger than Emmett, but somehow, nearly as big, and thicker. Emmett was selfish in bed, happy to receive, lazy to give, but Edward was vocal about her every movement. She had always gravitated towards indifferent guys, maybe because she'd felt she never deserved any better. Edward's greed for her on a boy five years older would have left her contemptuous, but somehow, his want made her want even more. Emmett was the only guy she'd ever slept with, but as Edward cried out and she felt him getting even harder in her mouth, she knew what was coming, knew that she didn't want it like this, for either of them, and pulled back. He looked up at her, startled, his wide eyes, and they were beautiful eyes, she now saw, embarrassed, as if he'd done something wrong, or as if a dream world had finally given way to the real one.

"Sorry if—"

"Do you want to have sex with me?" she panted. She needed to know needed a verbal answer.

Something else came into his face. She thought, _he really will be handsome_. And he said without doubt or hesitation, "Yes."

She lay back on the couch over her discarded clothing, feeling her wet shirt under her back and not caring, holding his hand, guiding him forward. She could feel him trembling, and guilt started forward, but then he kissed her on the mouth, searching and powerful, and it didn't matter anymore what they were doing, who they were, how they'd come to be here, only that they were.

 _We deserve this_ , she thought, and pulled him forward, guiding him inside her. The sound he let out made her feel so wrong and so right. A part of her was sounding alarm bells, thinking, _I am in a house with my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—passed out in the next room, and I have his little brother, his barely teenage brother, inside me_ , but again, it didn't matter. It only mattered that it felt good, felt right, and if Emmett had ever felt that way to her, he hadn't for years, but now she had this, at least for tonight.

She had never been anyone's first, had never really wanted to be. The coaching, the trial and error, but Edward, knowing nothing, seemed to know exactly what to do, grabbing her hair, thrusting deep and pulling back and thrusting again, kissing at her every so often, whispering words she couldn't quite grasp, only the tone, loving, full of want, and then she came, hard, fast, pushing against him, and he seemed to understand, and kept thrusting harder. He said her name. There were real tears in her eyes, and she stroked his face, staring up at him, and in that moment, she saw something change in his face, his eyes widen, his mouth opening, and before she had a chance to think about it, she felt him gush inside her, felt him come and come and come, clenching and unclenching, moaning above her while she moaned beneath him.

The clean-up was uncomfortable. They moved like two people just waking from a deep sleep, wiping, dressing, saying little except, "Wipe up that spot right here," or "Your shirt is on backwards," and even after what had happened Edward felt a deep dread settle into him, because this was what he'd been dreaming of even before he knew enough to dream, and now it had happened, and now it was over. He would never sleep tonight, he thought, probably wouldn't sleep for weeks, still trying to recapture the moment that was now gone. So he thought, until Bella said absently, "Here, let me give you my address. I'm working tomorrow, but I'm off Sunday. Maybe you can come over and we can talk."

AN/ As you can likely tell by now this is an AU fic that takes place in the slums a lot of the characters will be different and the characters are not in canon but I hope you guys can enjoy it for what it is. Please review if you are liking it and I will post faster.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

Bella sat up in bed, her back pressed up against the cracking plaster that made up her bedroom walls, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her hand toyed with the hem of the baggy sweatpants she used as pajamas on cold nights. She wouldn't dare turn on the heat in the house for another couple of months, at least not before the deep of October, when the chill became too much to bear. The blanket pooled around her waist, her arms bare, the fine down of hair there standing on end. Her eyes were locked on the slit of light coming through the window cast by the flickering streetlamp just outside, staring but not seeing.

She checked her phone; 5:25 in the morning, and she hadn't slept, wasn't sure if she'd even closed her eyes. She had to be at work by 8:30 for the breakfast shift and felt herself drawn to the idea of calling out sick. She could say she'd caught a chill and was running a fever. Fall had come early and it had been damp all month; Ron, who himself had a perpetual sniffle just lately, would believe her, no problem. Besides, Bella needed the money so desperately she never called out…but with her mind so gnarled into a knot of seeping sickness and guilt she thought going in and running on autopilot might actually be the best option. Maybe a day of pouring coffee and replenishing sugar packets would be the best thing for her. Here, she would only keep dwelling.

Until the past twenty-four hours, Bella had done a total of six illegal things in her nineteen years of life. For the neighborhood she was considered almost straight-edge. She didn't do any drugs harder than pot, though she wasn't opposed to sitting out on Angelique's porch with a blunt smoking some of her older brother Ravon's shit. But that was it, until…

 _There must be something wrong with me._

She had to talk to Angelique. Her stomach was burning with this secret, this terrible story of corruption that ate at her from the inside out with teeth like an angler fish, the light from the window beckoning like a bobbing lure to the need to confess her sin.

She dressed slowly, without thinking, moving as if underwater. She hadn't bathed and was still sticky with old sweat…and cum, she realized with disgust. She hurriedly flicked on the light. Her bedroom was dwarfed by the secondhand queen bed, leaving just enough room for a dresser and the chest in the corner where she kept her winter clothes. She dove into it, pulling out a big black hoodie—it could have been Emmett's, but she couldn't make herself care. She had never been caught for underage drinking, but she'd always assumed that at worst there would be a fine, maybe a course she'd have to complete…but nothing like this. She had hurt someone, maybe scarred them for life. She strode from her room toeing on her low black combat boots. The house was still and silent, which meant she was alone. Lately, that was usual.

She had only been arrested once in her life, and it was community service, and it was over in a month—vandalism of Emmett's team's rival school. This was of course all led by the captain himself, and he'd apologized profusely to Bella, since she'd then had to keep up with school, community service, and the then part-time job at the diner. If she had to guess, that had been one of the catalysts for her dropping out in junior year.

As she flung open the front door, the hinge screeching, she was happy to see the rain had stopped, but the air was damp and cold against her face. She pulled the hood over her head and padded up the porch to Angelique's house. The two of them never locked their doors—in the Robinsons' because there were always so many people coming and going and in Bella's because her mom couldn't be trusted not to lose her key, and Bella would rather not be woken by her banging and screaming in the middle of the night. Bella pushed her way in and carefully walked through their living room. She could see Shug, the eldest Robinson, passed out on the couch, the TV lighting his sizable form. She ascended the stairs to where she knew Angelique and CeCe's room was. CeCe ,the youngest and hopefully last Robinson, was deep asleep on her side of the room in a small twin bed, Angelique equally deeply asleep in her own pressed against the window.

"Hey," Bella whispered into Angelique's ear. She hesitated, then reached out and poked her gently. "Angelique, it's me."

Angelique lay motionless.

"Angel—"

Angelique sat bolt upright in bed, causing Bella to snap back, nearly falling on her ass and having to clutch the bedframe to keep her balance. Angelique's eyes were frantic, bugging out, and then she realized where she was and who was kneeling beside her, platinum blonde hair shining in the light through the window, and caught her breath. Her eyes turned to wicked slits as she leveled them on Bella.

"Girl, what the fuck you doing creeping up on people in the middle of the night?" she hissed. "I'm up here thinking they coming through the window raping people!"

"I'm sorry," Bella whispered, hands out, trying to soothe her friend, "I'm really sorry, I just…I need to talk to you and it can't wait."

"Can't wait till…" Angelique snapped her head over her shoulder. "Till _six_ in the morning?"

It was pitch-black but for the whites of Angelique's eyes, but Bella could feel her face growing hot. "I think I'm in a lotta trouble, Angelique."

Edward had never been any good at keeping secrets. Sitting at the kitchen table while his mother scrambled eggs at the stove, he felt his mouth tighten with everything he knew and wasn't saying. She turned, holding out a few bits of egg on a wooden spoon.

"Taste."

He opened his mouth, waiting.

"Come _here_ and taste, you're not a cripple."

With a sigh that was more for show than anything, he pushed himself up and came over to taste the eggs, which were fluffy but not the distinctive yellow he was used to.

"More cheese," he said, chewing. "And salt."

She did as directed—Edward's mom had learned to defer to him in the kitchen—and Edward went back to the table. They enjoyed their Saturday mornings together. The law office was closed, and she didn't have to be at the supermarket until six. Today, though, Edward seemed quiet. Normally she'd be denying his pleading for another glass of chocolate milk, but none came.

"You feeling okay, sweetie?" she asked, keeping her voice level. This wasn't the first boy she'd raised, and she'd been looking for the signs in Edward ever since he turned thirteen. The change this neighborhood could bring in a boy, even one as pure of heart as her Edward. Emmett had been older and always harder, but in Edward there was something precious that could easily be spoiled. He was wise beyond his years in so many ways; in others, he was still the six-year-old she remembered asking with hazel eyes wide as dinner plates when daddy would be home.

"Uh-huh," he said without glancing up. "Fine, mom."

This was how it started. The not talking. Then would come the suspicion, the resentment. Coming home late after school and not wanting to tell her why. It came overnight; you were their best friend one day, a prison warden the next.

She gave him his eggs and two pieces of toast, having to restrain herself from ruffling his hair. You couldn't baby them, that was the quickest way to send them running with the wrong crowd. In a place like this, you had to let them off the leash gently, but without them ever sensing they were anything but totally free. Look at how Emmett turned out.

But she couldn't help but baby him at least a little, so while he picked listlessly at his eggs, she watched him and noticed his usual ravenous appetite was gone. Maybe it was a diet thing—boys were more sensitive these days, especially her Edward. Maybe someone at school had called him fat. One of the boys in gym class, which Edward had always hated.

"So I feel like we haven't talked in a while, how's everything at school?" she asked.

Now he looked up. "Mom. Everything's good," he said, emphasizing each word. She knew that look from Emmett. It meant, _leave me alone._

 _Too far_ , she thought, _I'm already pushing him too hard._

"No sign of life from your brother this morning," she said.

As if summoned, her older son came in wearing a pair of frayed boxers, feet thudding against the yellowed linoleum. The smell of stale beer and Old Spice preceded him. His hair was standing out in short spikes around his head. He was in a lousy mood as usual.

"What's there to eat," he said. It came out not as a question, but a demand.

"Eggs in the fridge, you can help yourself," she said, matching her tone to his.

"You made _him_ breakfast."

" _He_ appreciates it."

"Whatever," Emmett said. He brought his hands up to his face, rubbing at his temples.

"Headache?" Esme asked.

"Yes!" Emmett exploded. "I have a headache! I had some friends over last night! Why do you have to get on me about every little thing I do?"

"Because you're in my house!"

Esme got to her feet. They glared at each other a moment, a thousand old fights flashing through both of their minds. Then, surprisingly, something in Emmett gave way, and he slunk over to the table.

"I just had some friends over, that's all," he mumbled. He picked a wedge of toast off of Edward's plate and said, taking a bite, "Not gonna eat this, right?"

"Nah, go ahead," Edward said without his usual attitude.

"Looks like you had more than a few friends," Esme said, and sipped at her coffee. "Before you go anywhere today, I want those empty cans out of the living room. _Capece_?"

Emmett chomped on his toast sullenly. "Anyone see Bella last night or anything?"

Edward started picking at his eggs again.

"Thought she would have been gone first thing," Esme said. "Poor thing, working the way she does, and at a diner, at her age."

"What do you mean, her age? She's two years younger than me."

Esme looked up and down at him, bleary and bloodshot and reeking, and brought her coffee mug back to her lips. "Well."

When he was sure his hands wouldn't shake, Edward released his death grip on the fork and set it back down on the plate. "She was here."

Emmett looked at him, sharply. "She _was?_ Why didn't you _wake_ me?"

With an indifference that startled him, Edward looked at his brother and shrugged. "I dunno. I was watching a movie. You always tell me to keep out of your business."

"Well…how long was she here?"

There was a desperate note in Emmett's voice. Something in Edward reveled in it.

As if he couldn't be bothered to remember—as if it had made so little an impression on him that he hadn't even stored the memory—Edward said, "I dunno, maybe…twenty minutes. Not that long. She was just here looking for you. I think maybe she was in your room at one point. Then she left."

"That girl puts up with hell from you," Esme said.

"Oh, can you not even start with me now?"

"I'm serious, she's a saint. You'd better start appreciating that."

"You don't even know. The kind of love we have, you don't even get it."

"Can I be excused, please?" Edward asked.

"All full?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, honey. Just put—"

"I know," Edward said, already bringing the plate with him and setting it in the sink.

Edward went upstairs while behind him the battle raged. They would be at it for a while. The topics changed, but the story was always the same. Emmett hadn't turned out the way their mother had wanted and was too lazy to do anything about it, and Emmett knew it as well as she did and hated her expecting any better from him. Sometimes it made Edward's stomach turn to have such hostility running constantly through the house like a gas leak, waiting only for a spark to explode, but he was grateful this morning. There was only one thing on his mind.

Edward crept into Emmett's room, enemy territory. He'd be lucky to get a shot on the arm if he was caught, but he had to know. Emmett's phone, the screen cracked and smeared from its owner's greasy fingers, opened right up, as Edward knew it would; Emmett was both too cocky and too dumb to put a lock on it.

Emmett at 10:02: _Where were you last night, I was waiting._

Bella at 10:40, and Edward could only imagine what had been going through her head in those thirty-eight minutes: _Guess you don't have to bother doing that anymore._

Emmett, 10:41: _What are you talking about?_

Emmett, 10:47: _Hello?_

Emmett, 10:50: _Bella! Talk to me!_

It was now 11:15 with no response. As Edward set the phone down, his heart racing with everything this could mean, one came through: _Why bother. It's been real._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

Outwardly, nothing in Edward's life had changed. Same house, same mom, same dipshit brother. But something was different. It wasn't just magazines, wasn't just videos on Pornhub you sneaked on late nights, it was real. But it wasn't just that, either, not just the obvious thing that he and Billy and their friends snickered about crossing campus between classes. There was something more. It had…meant something. Lying in bed, wide awake as Saturday turned to Sunday, he was sure of it, and his thoughts turned to why.

Maybe she was some kind of sex freak. Maybe she went trolling around middle schools and libraries looking for kids to drag into bed. But that was stupid. His mother was the best judge of character he knew. If Bella was really a hard-core pedo, she'd have sniffed her out at first meeting. And it wasn't like she went cruising around in an unmarked van with the windows blacked out. He didn't even think she owned a car.

No, Bella was good. He felt it in his bones, just like he felt that Emmett had always been bad and would never get any better. Bella was too good for this place. She was like the one blade of grass growing out of the scorched earth in _Wall-E_ : maybe dusty and weather-beaten, but the one sign of life in an otherwise barren wasteland. And maybe, he thought, she had seen that same goodness in him.

He watched the white light come through his window like Christmas morning like a broke kid wondering what if anything Santa would bring come sunrise. He hadn't slept at all Friday night, so the exhaustion wore on him, and he slept deeply most of last night, but now here it was, dawn, and he was wide awake. Was she awake? Did she even remember asking him to come over? He had her address crumpled up in his sock drawer, had checked it three or four or forty times yesterday…but would he come up to the door only to have her, shocked, shoo him away like the kid he was? He decided he'd leave the house early, grab a bacon egg and cheese down at the bodega, and take it from there.

The house was silent except for Emmett's snores from the bedroom next door as he exited his room. He had a crumpled five dollar bill in the pocket of his ripped jeans, but there was a twenty with a note on the counter stating that he should get breakfast, and if it wasn't too much to ask, could he pick up a carton of OJ and a dozen bagels to bring home?

He felt like ignoring the request but decided he could pick up everything on his way back. Bella's block was almost a twenty-minute walk, but something had pushed him to re-inflate the flat tire on his Schwinn yesterday, and he could be there and back before anyone else was even up.

 _What makes you think you're leaving so soon?_

Because things like this don't happen.

Bella walked to the recycling bin for the third time. Her mother's bottles were still in there, still seemed to wink at her, as if to acknowledge their shared secret, and she did another lap around the house to make sure there weren't any she was overlooking. She had been up at the normal time for the breakfast shift, only there was no breakfast shift. Her internal clock had been right on the money given her nervousness, but it hadn't been work she had to worry about, only him. Should she make coffee? Was he even old enough to drink it?

 _Would he even come? Or would the police?_

She stood in her tiny kitchen and measured enough coffee for two people and decided that she could always make ice coffee for tomorrow. She pressed the button with one finger she always kept her nails short and the light blue polish she had quickly brushed over them a couple days ago was already chipping. She went to her room and took a few more minutes to get dressed than usual, putting on one of the few sports bras she had. She often went braless even at work even though she probably shouldn't given the size of her breasts. She found bras uncomfortable and rubbed at her during long shifts. Plus her full coverage apron covered everything anyhow.

She pulled on a black t-shirt it was form fitting, stretchy with the _Jack Daniels_ logo in white on the front. Bar swag Angelique swiped from one the jobs of her endless resume provided. She dropped her sweat pants shimmying out of them and noted the underwear she had possibly subconsciously pulled on before work yesterday. She didn't have a washer or dryer and the Laundromat was a good fifteen-minute walk and carting the heavy laundry bag back and forth was reserved for once every two weeks. She didn't always have clean underwear so she went without.

In the bathroom she brushed on some light make up her pale pearly completion making it difficult to find a drug store foundation to match but she had learned tiny tricks here and there to make it work. She even went above her usual day to day make up to draw on some winged eye liner. She than wondered why she was getting so dolled up to be put in handcuffs. She shook her head trying to jar herself away from the fear that pushed to paralyze her. Then again if he did come why was the winged eyeliner necessary? It wasn't, nothing was making sense in these moments.

Edward clicked the bike lock securing the bike to a wrack just beside the bodega. He looked around into the pale light of early morning his eyes scanned the streets, he couldn't remember the last time he had been up this early on a weekend. He walked over to the door of Madabas and pushed the door open and walked in two men were arguing loudly about the Yankees over by the counter and Edward weaved around them and over to the grill man.

"Hey little man you're up early, the usual, no ketchup?" The heavy set Hispanic man asked already reaching for a Kaiser roll out of the bin.

"Yeah thanks Carlos." Usually it wouldn't bother Edward to be called little man, but today was different.

He strolled over to the case where the drinks were displayed and grabbed a _Mountain Dew_ his mom would never know he'd had soda with breakfast, maybe there were perks to being up before her. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and put clicked the address that was already logged in his recent destinations. His heart began beating harder, thudding with each step to the counter. He pulled the five out of his pocket and Carlos came to the counter placing the wrapped sandwich for the cashier to ring up. He placed the five on the counter and the man placed it easily in the drawer. Edward caught sight of the clock just behind the man's head, it read 6:26, he sighed and the man looked up in question.

"Oh nothing um, I gotta get some more things," Edward said quickly. It was far too early to head out on a ten-minute trek, too early to bother her, too early to get his heart ripped out. "Can I get a dozen bagels six everything, six plain."

"Sure Carlos a get me a dozen, even everything and plain," The cashier called.

Edward returned to the drink case and pulled out a carton of _Tropicana_ and returned the counter to pay once again.

As he returned home struggled to pull his bike up the stairs his backpack weighted down with juice and bagels. He finally got it up the last step and he didn't latch it up, which could be risky, but he was leaving soon anyway. He quietly as he could twist his key and came into the kitchen, he unloaded his backpack putting the OJ in the fridge and the bagels on the counter.

He tip toed to the table and took out his sandwich and soda and sat down. Even opening the sandwich he was trying to hard to be quiet doing his best to make no crumpling noises. He knew likely as it was his mom would be asleep till at least 10:30, having worked until midnight last night, Sunday was her day to sleep. Emmett likely wouldn't rise until noon he heard him stumble in last night and bump into the table late in the night or early in the morning depending how you looked at it. But the very thought of someone waking up and having to lie hard about where he was going scared him, the thought of anything getting in the way of this sent sparks small sparks of trepid panic through him.

He ate his sandwich slowly partially from his lack of appetite and half because he figured the slower he ate the more time would tick on. What would they talk about? What words would come out of his mouth when they finally did? Worse than that, what words would come out of hers? Finally the clock struck 7:30 and he could wait no more, part of him said let's get this over with and another side said _I wonder what she looks like in the morning._

AN/ If you are reading please take a moment to review me and my fiancé have put our heart and soul into continuing in creating this story for you guys and if you are enjoying please let us know and we will make it our job to keep the chapters coming at a great pace.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

As Edward pedaled the scenery began to change. Edward lived in an apartment complex, still wasn't in the best part of the neighborhood but it was definitely a far cry safer than this. The narrowing sidewalk became rough beneath him unkempt and cracking and he was sure glad he had put more than enough air in his front tire for it was taking a beating. He had his ear phones in and was listening the directions, he pulled one out so he could at least be aware of his surroundings as he entered what was considered to be the worst part of the Yonkers slums. He passed the abandoned meat packing plant down by the water giving way to rows of small scale homes.

The GPS rang out, your destination is on the left and Edward's mind went blank. He was here. He was actually here. He turned his head and adjusted his fitted cap, looking up at the house with the rusted wire fence around the yard that wrapped around the front to the very back where three yellowing plastic chairs sat in a circle one knocked over wavering back in forth on the wind of the water. He felt his thudding heart pang with a pitying feeling. This is where she lived. No wonder she was mostly over at his house with Emmett when they hung out. The house was in shambles and looked like it could easily come crumbling down during a downpour the cracking panels too water logged to keep the structure up right.

He chained his bike to the fence post and on shaking legs stepped through the gate and onto the brown patchy grass that led up to the stairs to a small porch. He should turn around and just forget any of this ever happened. He could just keep the memory for a rainy day. He shouldn't be raising his hand to knock on that door, that door that was barley hanging on its hinges, but… he was.

Bella was sitting at her kitchen table only big enough for two people to comfortably sit one foot propped up on the other seat sorting through mail and sifting through bills in a sort of daze occasionally bringing the cold coffee to her lips. She drank her coffee black it wasn't worth keeping milk in the house to eventually spoil and find itself in the trash. She heard it. Or maybe she was imagining it. Someone was coming up the stairs.

 _No not this, not her, not now, not today._

Terror took her. She clicked her upturned phone it read 7:42. This could only be her mother returning from a week long bender, retuning to sleep for two days before returning to one of her many hubbies who kept her well saited providing booze for a piece of pussy.

Then a gentle knock came from the door, she bit her lip. Her mother never knocked, and the electricity in her became almost violent. She stood and put her hand on the back of the chair just standing eyes trained on the door almost as if she forgot how one opened a door. She did her best to pull herself together and took a step and her necklace jingled around her neck and her eyes cleared, she was a bad bitch. She was the toughest person she knew yet as she took a few more steps she couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she pulled the piece that covered the eye whole and pushed herself to peer out.

He stood head down his cap turned to the side staring the ground arms forced against his sides. She took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob her head nodded without her consent and she pulled the door open. She looked out at him and then pushed the screen door away from herself. His head shot up and he starred up at her just a few inches shorter. His eyes were wide and his mouth floundered and hands wrung and words were none existent he didn't even know what words were in that moment. She took him in the fear so open on his face, she hoped she was doing a better job of hiding her own.

"Hey," she said her voice controlled so is wouldn't break. _Keep your words short._

Edward cleared his throat, closed his eyes and lifted his chin an inch higher. "Hi."

"Wanna come in?" She asked hesitating.

Edward dodged his head around her to look inside and simply nodded still not trusting his own voice fully. She stepped back and allowed him inside. He looked at his feet and than up before moving past her inside. He looked around the kitchen which was half the size of the one back at his apartment. The small table left just enough room between the radiater and the fridge to be able to get in side it. He looked to the table that was covered in opened envelopes and papers. The house smelled of cigarettes and freshly brewed coffee. She watched him glance around not really sure where to stand or sit but was suddenly insecure and her tiny kitchen felt so much smaller.

She was the adult here. She had done this and she had to take responsibility. She had to. "You can take a seat if you want."

"Thanks," He looked back over at her and suddenly blurted, "Should I take my shoes off?"

Bella laughed and it was like a gentle wave breaking through an ocean storm. There was just something so funny about it.

"What?" Edward said nervously thinking she was making fun of him.

"No you can leave them on." She walked over to the table and picked up her coffee mug, filling it from the pot, hoping to chase the chill from the half full mug. She hesitated than asked hearing the chair screech behind her. "Coffee?"

Edward debated, he'd had coffee before it wasn't his favorite thing unless it was doused in sugar and cream but he wanted to look mature and nodded when she turned around. Sh reached into the cabinet and pulled down another mug pouring him a cup.

"I don't have any milk, hope that's okay." She placed the mug down beside Edward and circled around to the other side of the table sitting down across from him.

"Yeah," he looked down at the black liquid and held back the wrinkle his nose desired to do.

She couldn't figure out what to do or say or even think so she went back to sorting the mail not really focusing on what she was doing just trying to quiet her hands. Edward took a sip of the bitter liquid he pulled back and blew round the rim as if it was too hot to drink and set it down. She looked up when the cup hit the surface of the table and eyed him. She supposed she should say something.

"You're up early."

Edward looked at her and finally found his voice. "You too."

"Usually up earlier than this for the breakfast shift."

"But…you're not working today?"

"Not today. Guess it's habit." She groped for the battered pack of Newports on the table and lit one up. The first eager drag helped ease her buzzing nerves. "So, how about you?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Bella just nodded. He was looking at her with unspoken questions in his eyes. She had to say something. She tapped her cigarette and cleared her throat, putting on her best approximation of an adult voice.

"Listen. What happened shouldn't have happened, and I'm sorry."

Of all things, he looked hurt.

"What do you mean, shouldn't have happened?"

"It's not right."

He nodded glumly. "Oh." What else was there to say?

"Listen…" she said. "You'll find…Edward…" She took a long drag of her cigarette. An uneasy silence settled in, and they might have sat that way for hours if Edward hadn't jerked in his seat and cried:

"Holy fucking mother of god, what the hell is that?"

Bella's head whipped around, eyes searching wildly, imagining the police waiting in swarms just outside the kitchen window, but there was nothing but the weak light of an early Sunday morning. Then her eyes dropped, and she saw Ariel had plodded in and was looking up expectantly at Edward, mouth open in a silent meow.

Edward stared back. _Jesus Christ, is that even a cat or the biggest rat anyone's ever seen in their lives?_

"Oh," Bella laughed, puffing smoke, "that's Ariel, that's my baby."

Edward kept goggling. Finally he said, "What the hell do you feed that thing, hamsters?"

"Hey, she's just furry," Bella said, taking offense.

" _What fur?_ " Edward exclaimed.

Watching them from the floor was the ugliest cat Edward had ever seen. Besides its morbid obesity, which if anything was an understatement, its fur stuck out in rough clumps like crabgrass…what fur there was, because the cat— _How is that thing a cat?_ —had large bald patches, the bare skin underneath gray and scabby with angry red welts.

"She has a skin condition," Bella said evenly.

"Then put her down!" Edward said without thinking.

Bella glared at him. Edward looked back, his eyes still wide with disgust, and then something broke between them as neatly as a pane of glass, and they were both laughing.

"She's my little girl!" Bella protested.

" _Little?_ " Edward said wildly.

He looked back down, having time to register that the cat was no longer sitting thickly on the opposite end of the kitchen before something thumped against his leg and he jerked with involuntary aversion, seeing its face, marred with scars and as big as his palm, drooling up from his feet.

"Look, she's saying hi," Bella cooed.

He never heard this tone from Bella. He liked it.

"Where did you even get this thing?"

Bella paused. "My mom brought her home."

"From _hell?_ "

"She was just a kitten when I got her! She's had a rough time, but she's a survivor. Aren't you, baby." Bella reached under the table, and the cat walked—waddled, really—over at once, meowing like a rusty flute, and began purring as Bella stroked under her chin.

Edward sat back and watched Bella smiling, her eyes glimmering. She had lost that hardness, that wariness, and Edward, feeling the sudden bravery that comes from having nothing to lose, took his shot.

"Just because it's not right doesn't mean it's wrong," he said softly.

She looked up, caught between moments, her smile still half-there, and then it faded. She sat up, cleared her throat, reached for her cigarette, which was perched inside the ashtray burned down to the filter. She lit another one.

"You're too…" She smiled with thin lips. "I'm too old for you."

"Why are you saying that like nothing happened?"

"Because it shouldn't have," she snapped. She wasn't looking at him.

He leaned forward. "But it did." He felt somehow the reins of the conversation had shifted. She'd let them fall; he'd taken them up.

Very carefully, as if it was something fragile, she reached out and ashed her cigarette. The tips of her fingers were jittering minutely.

"I like you, Bella," he said, astonished at how level, how confident, his voice sounded. "I've liked you for a long time, honestly."

Without knowing he was going to, he reached out and touched her hand. She flinched but didn't draw away.

"It happened, and I don't know if you think you…did something to me, but it wasn't anything I didn't want. It's not like that. I always liked having you around. Just not with Emmett."

"Edward, what do you think's going to happen here?"

"I don't know. But that doesn't mean we can't hang out and stuff."

"Edward, if anyone found out that we had sex…" She shook her head, then looked at him, this bold, ballsy thirteen year-old…kid? But he didn't seem like a kid now. He met her gaze and held it, and in the end, she was the one to look away. "Do you know what would happen to me?"

"You're only nineteen. My mom's ten years younger than my dad."

"That's very different. It's about _when_ we met…you're thirteen, for Christ's sake."

"Did that matter then?"

He stared her down, his hands still on hers. The moment stretched, and neither of them knew what would come next, until suddenly the table shook, the mugs thudded, and papers flew everywhere, and there was Ariel.

"Oh, fucking shit!" Edward cried, drawing back. "Gah!" He looked into Bella's eyes, grinning, eyes mock desperate. "I'm sorry, can I use your bathroom, cause I've gotta throw up, like, _now._ "

"Oh, stop." She rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a baby."

"I'm not a baby, I'm scared for my life, yo."

"Don't say yo." She studied him. "I know it happened, and…no, you didn't seem thirteen then."

"So I did good?" he asked before he could help it, and he felt thirteen again.

"Well, I came," she said, before _she_ could help it.

"Better than Emmett?"

"Edward."

"What? I'm kidding," he said, but he wasn't, and they both knew it.

Bella looked at the time, knowing Edward's mom would be getting up any minute now.

"You should get going," she said. "Because I do _not_ need your mom wondering where you are."

"So, can I come back?" Edward's eyes were pleading.

Bella looked around at the house, tiny, coming apart at the seams. He was definitely the best looking thing in her kitchen, but why would he want to come back to this place, and why was she actually considering the idea?

She took a last long drag of her cigarette, then stubbed it out.

"I work a lot, but I'll give you my cell phone number. If you want to keep me company sometime."

Edward's face lit up, and it was Christmas morning again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

They had a spot on the banks of the Hudson down by the train tracks. Past the parking lot, you had to go through an almost impassable thicket of underbrush and down a steep hill, and they had never seen any evidence that others had been there except for the odd beer can or condom wrapper, and even these might have washed up on shore. It was their place.

Billy and Takaki showed up first, then, while they were skipping rocks, Caddy came, strolling up in her dad's old Army jacket that pooled over her wrists and came down to her thighs. Edward was late. He had been late going everywhere just lately. When he skidded down the hill, throwing up clouds of dust, he felt an odd compulsion to turn away, walk until he was out of earshot, and sit alone for a while so he could clear his head. Everything had been moving so fast over the last week that sometimes he woke up dizzy. But he hit the rocks with a clatter, and the three others turned at once.

"Hi, Edward," Caddy said.

"Hey, guys."

"Where you been?" Billy asked.

"Just around." Edward checked his phone, which was his new hobby, and saw nothing but the time. "What you guys doing?"

"Billy's lying about his skips again," Takaki said.

"It was eight skips, man."

"Bullshit. I got eyes, dude."

Edward took a seat on a large flat rock and checked his phone. His eyes narrowed in disappointment. It had been five days since he and Bella, crammed in her tiny kitchen, came to something like an understanding—at least he'd thought they had, but he hadn't heard a word since.

"You guys are boring the shit out of me," Caddy said, sitting cross-legged on the ground, listlessly poking some trash with a stick.

"So get in the game," Billy said.

"Scrrrrrew you guys," she announced, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm going home."

"No, no, wait, you gotta be the ump," Takaki said.

"Edward, you wanna ref these losers?"

"Sure."

She cocked her head and said more gently, "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Edward said, glancing at his phone. He set it in his lap, where he'd notice right away if anything came through.

"Kay," she said, not quite believing him. "Maybe I'll see you guys over the weekend."

Takaki's eyes lit up. He put his hands together, bowed, and exclaimed with an exaggerated, stereotypical Japanese accent, "It would be Takaki great honor!"

"You're a dork," Caddy said, and tromped off.

Takaki threw another rock, then there was a buzzing in the still air. He checked his phone and visibly deflated.

"Ah, shit, I gotta go too."

"What do you mean, man? We're in the middle of a game."

"Takaki need go do homework! Make parent vedy proud!"

"I think you're bailing cause you're losing," Billy said, but he was already walking away.

They could hear him still muttering as he climbed the hill, voice dwindling away, "Bring honor to family. Make ghost ancestors smile down on Takaki. No get lock in closet again. Not for Takaki…"

"He's a weird motherfucker," Billy said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, he's our weird motherfucker."

Billy went back to skipping. Edward thought they could settle into a comfortable silence. It broke.

"What's with you?" Billy said as he flicked a rock over the water.

"Huh?"

"Come on, I know something's up. You've been weird all week."

"Nothing. Emmett's being an asshole."

"Emmett's always an asshole. There's something else going on."

"Well, since he broke up with his girlfriend he's even worse."

Now Billy turned, looking interested. "Emmett broke up with Bella?"

"No, Bella dumped him." Edward felt a glimmer of pleasure saying it.

"Shit, man. That's rough. She got…"

"She got _what_."

"You know." Billy held up his hands about a foot from his chest, curled into globe shapes. "Them tiggies."

"Will you—don't talk about her like that."

"What's with you? I'm sure you got enough stored up for the spank bank."

Edward was surprised by the disgust he felt. He had never been above screwing around like this even when Caddy was around, just guys being guys, but now he felt he had something to protect.

 _Do you?_

He glanced down at his phone.

"Why do you keep staring at your phone?" Billy stretched his arms out to all the empty nothing. "I'm here."

"I do have other friends, you know."

Billy laughed. "No you don't."

"Whatever."

A note of concern came into Billy's eyes. He tossed down the stones he'd had cupped in one hand and came over to Edward's rock.

"Hey man, I'm just kidding around, you know?"

Edward looked up, his head suddenly feeling heavy, and nodded glumly. "Yeah, I know, I'm just in a weird mood."

Billy didn't move, didn't take the brush-off and go back to the water, as Edward both had and hadn't wanted him to. He put a hand easily on Edward's shoulder. Kids at school would have called him a fag for it, but when you'd been friends as long as they had, you didn't care. Well, mostly didn't. A simple touch could mean a lot when you were lost. Just knowing someone cared enough to show it could move mountains, and something in Edward shifted almost without him being aware of it. His mouth opened, and all that heaviness came out.

"We had sex."

Billy squinted, almost like the sun was in his eyes. His head jutted forward, as if Edward, trying to outdo Takaki, had said something in Japanese.

"You—huh? What do you mean?"

"We had sex."

"You…you had sex."

"We had sex."

Billy's mouth gaped open and held there, like someone had put him on pause. Then he flinched, blinking rapidly, absorbing what Edward had said.

"You had _sex?_ With _what?_ "

"Not what! Bella, asshole!"

Billy looked at him for a long time. "Good one."

Edward looked back, angry, then sad. He clutched his phone with absent tightness.

"Edward. Dude. You're fucking with me, right?" Billy said dimly, but even he didn't seem to believe that.

Edward only looked, telling him everything with his eyes.

There was another long pause, and then Billy shook his head as if to clear it.

"I gotta sit down," he said, pushing next to Edward on the rock. His mouth was working like the fish you sometimes saw dying on these same rocks, some grasping noises coming out that were almost words, and then, seemingly to himself, "Why would Bella have sex with _you?_ "

"I don't know!" Edward blurted. "I have no fucking clue!"

"…I mean, no offense…"

"What."

"But… _you?_ "

"I know…" Edward sighed. "I know."

Another rolling wave of realization hit Billy. "I mean, Jesus! Where? When? _How?_ "

"I just…she came over, she was looking for Emmett, and he was passed out, and I told her he was cheating on her, and she was, like, just _looking_ at me, and it just, it just kinda happened."

"What was it like?"

"It was…I don't know how to describe it."

"Well, fucking think of a way, man!"

"I mean, it was like…wet?" Edward said, lost in thought, trying to recall exactly how it had been. "Amazing? Way better than jacking off."

"Okay, but like, details!"

Billy's eyes were wide, like saucers, hungry for information he didn't have and that Edward couldn't grasp how to give.

"I don't know."

"You lucky son of a bitch," Billy said, awestruck. "I totally thought I was gonna lose it _way_ before you!"

"Me too," Edward said.

"I can't believe it…you touched the tiggies."

Edward smacked him in the arm. "Asshole!"

Billy thought of something. "But do you think…don't take this the wrong way, I'm just saying…you think maybe she did it because you told her about Emmett…like, revenge?"

This had not in fact occurred to Edward. It sent everything inside him plunging like an anchor into the cold depths of the ocean floor. But then he thought about how it had actually happened, not just the facts of who he was and who she was and how unlikely it all had been. He thought with some blinkering awareness, a maturity that was only barely there, of how it had felt, how they'd been together, and he shook his head.

"She wouldn't do that."

"Okay, but…man, listen. I'm sure it was crazy awesome and all, but…if you just think about it—"

"No. I mean that. You weren't there. It wasn't like that. _She_ isn't like that."

Billy saw the conviction in his eyes and left it alone, not entirely believing but knowing that Edward did.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, man. This is some heavy shit."

"You can't tell anyone. She could get in a lot of trouble. Like, ruining her life trouble. Not Takaki or Caddy. And _no grown-ups._ "

"Dude, you think I would do that?"

"No, I just…maybe I shouldn't have told you in the first place."

"Hey. It's me, man. I can keep a secret."

"When Takaki sharted his pants in the second grade everyone knew by the end of the day."

"Well, that was just really funny."

"It was," Edward admitted.

"But really." Billy tapped his arm. "I'll keep it, man. Swear on my life."

"Good. Thank you."

"So…did it just happen the one time?"

"Yeah," Edward said, miserable, suddenly near tears that came from nowhere. He blinked them back furiously.

"Woah, woah, woah. What…what are you doing?"

"Nothing." His throat clenched on the single word, and he swallowed what felt like a hot stone. "It was just the once, and I went over her house to talk about it, I mean, we really talked, and that was on Sunday, and I haven't heard anything."

Billy nodded, not saying anything. He didn't have to. His eyes were sympathetic, almost pitying, and Edward knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Maybe you should just let it go, man."

The tears came on again, too much to stop. He hung his head while they rolled down his cheeks, falling, pattering on the dark and silent screen of his phone. When he could speak without sobbing, he whispered, "I can't."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Six

That bitch Leanne, who never bussed her own tables and whom Bella had known would never last, had of course quit last minute, leaving Rob scrambling to fill the shifts with whoever would take them, which, a.s usual, meant Bella. Five days of doubles had left her feeling like she had been hollowed out. Her feet ached, her head ached, even her smile ached. She had the weekend off, but this was cold comfort. The house had begun to feel strange to her, too big and too small at the same time. September was waning toward October, and lying in bed she could hear water dripping somewhere behind the walls, and finally at three o'clock on Saturday afternoon she decided to get out of bed.

Her phone was in the kitchen beside last night's half-eaten golden fingers wrap, the diner's best seller, cheap to make and most often encouraged for the server's shift meals. More than half-eaten, actually; the wrap had been nuzzled open, the chicken fingers popping out with ragged bites in them, and honey mustard leaking into the Styrofoam. Ariel had eaten breakfast, then.

She had a text from Angelique: _Wanna visit me at work tonight? It's Smirnoff Saturday! Let's get LITTY KITTY._

"Ugh," Bella said, and swiped it away. Beneath it, a few drunken Friday night texts from Emmett. He missed her, he was sorry for everything he'd done, he just wanted to talk, why wouldn't she just talk to him, why was she being such a bitch, why—

 _Swipe._

She would pass on Smirnoff Saturday, and Emmett could keep texting into oblivion as long as he wanted, but that left her wondering how she'd fill all the hours left in the day. She felt like a movie night in, but for some reason, munching Flamin' Hot Cheetos and chain-smoking cigarettes by herself didn't sound so good. Even the idea left her feeling vaguely sad. She thought of going back to bed, but then another thought crossed her mind.

"What's so interesting on your phone?" Edward's mom asked, trying not to sound as curious as she was.

"Nothing. Facebook."

He read the text for the seventieth or eightieth time, kept having to make sure it was really there and not just a product of his desperate mind: _I'm off tonight, maybe you want to come over and watch a movie?_

That simple. After all the days of worrying and crying hot tears into his pillow, as easy as a spring breeze, it had come. He thought long and hard about his response. He could have filled a notebook with the texts he started and deleted, but finally settled on: _Yeah, that'd be cool. What time?_ He sent it and immediately regretted it.

 _God, I'm such an asshole._

"Yeah?" his mom asked. "What's new in the world of Facebook?"

"Cat videos."

 _"That'd be cool?" That's like something Emmett would say. Fuck. I fucked it up. I fucked it up._

There were bubbles. She was writing back.

 _Oh god. Oh god._

Bella: _K cool. How's 7?_

Edward, eventually: _Sounds good._

Bella: _K there's a Chinese place right before you get to my street. Wanna tell me what you want and pick it up on your way?_

"Hey mom, Billy's family's ordering Chinese food tonight, can I go over?"

"Sweetie, I can leave you money for Chinese if you want."

"Yeah, but can I go to Billy's?"

"I don't see why not."

Edward: _Can I have a small hot and sour soup and pork dumplings and Szechuan beef combo, and please make sure they put water chestnuts and snow peas in it?_

Bella: _Jesus, you want to just order the whole menu?_

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You just look very flushed."

 _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_

"I dunno, I feel okay."

"I hope you're not coming down with something." She came over to feel his head. Edward snatched his phone off the table. "Oh, you do feel warm. Maybe you shouldn't go to Billy's."

"Mom, I'm _fine._ "

Once she was out of eyesight he checked the phone, damp with sweat. There were no bubbles.

 _FUUUUUUUU—oh. Wait. It's my turn to reply._

Edward: _Just a wonton soup would be good, actually._

Bella: _I'm kidding. Just say you're picking up for Bella. They know my order and they'll make it right there. I don't like when Chinese food sits around._

Edward: _Haha okay, sounds great!_

 _What a dipshit._

Bella: _And I need hot sauce. You know the little packets?_

Edward: _Got it._

"You want me to drive you to Billy's before work?"

"Mom! Leave me alone for two seconds, please!"

She looked startled, and then a weary dread set into her face. She set down the casserole dish she'd been washing, turned off the water, and wiped her hands. Edward was a teenager. You couldn't stop it any more than the tide, and even though he had never raised his voice to her before, she braced herself for many more moments like this, angry words hurled like rocks.

"Okay," she said without looking at him. Emmett had hardened her heart. She supposed it would happen again with Edward.

"Hey. Mom."

She jumped. He was right beside her. He'd gotten up without her even hearing. And when she looked down, it was her Edward again, his eyes big and pleading and sad.

"I'm sorry. I just…I can bike to Billy's, that's all."

"Okay." She hugged him.

"Mom, you want to suffocate me?" he said with a little laugh, muffled by her sweater, and she had to force herself to loosen her grip.

It was one of those corner shitholes no bigger than a studio apartment, fluorescent lighting overhead, blurry pictures of various menu items above the counter, floor stained with the ghosts of soy sauce past. The man behind the counter looked up as the bell rang.

"Hi, um, I'm picking up an order for Bella?"

"Oh, yes, Miss Bella! Be ready in five minutes."

He stepped into the kitchen and issued hurried instructions to the cooks. Edward took a seat on an aluminum chair at one of the tables. His foot kept jittering up and down. He was trying to tell himself not to go in with any expectations, that they were just two people hanging out and he'd blow any chance of getting closer to her if he got too pushy. It was why he'd gone all week without texting her even as he'd grown increasingly deranged, like a man slowly starving. He had to take the hits, live with the uncertainty, cry in private, but when he was with her, be perfect. Somehow.

"Miss Bella order ready!"

The hot sauce packets were in a utensil tray on the counter. He grabbed a handful, shoved them into the bag the man had placed there, and with a quick thanks was on his way to the door when the man called after him.

"No, wait, wait, you need sign!"

Her full name, he saw, was Isabella Madeline Swan. He copied it in careful script on the dotted line, feeling the thrill of the name unspooling beneath the pen.

He texted her coming out the door. The night was turning black around him. With all the rain recently, the fallen leaves underfoot smelled musty.

As soon as he hit send, she wrote back: _Got hot sauce?_

He wrote as he walked: _Yeah, got everything, be there in a minute._

He put his phone in his pocket, rounding the corner onto Bella's block, his senses on alert from being in this part of the neighborhood after dark. He was scanning the houses, thinking he saw hers up ahead but wondering if he should check the address to be sure, when his phone buzzed against his leg.

Bella: _How many packets did you get?_

 _Really?_

So it was onto the curb, wetness creeping into the seat of his ripped jeans, bag set in front of him, rifling through to where the hot sauce packets had settled when he'd tossed them in, which had naturally been the bottom. He came up with six of them clutched triumphantly between his fingers, texted Bella so, and started off again, wiping the crud off his ass. In his pocket, the phone buzzed.

Bella: _Need more, go back._

"Jesus, _really?_ " he said aloud, but was already doing an about face.

Bella was trying not to wait for Edward, but she was waiting. The little things she latched onto to occupy herself were just distractions: feeding Ariel, putting the 12-pack of Natty Ice she'd picked up into the fridge, wiping off the counter. He was on her mind the whole time. She remembered the unsettling way he'd spoken when he'd been here last, sounding years older than himself, than even her. There had been a confidence radiating off him, which was probably the reason she hadn't, as she'd intended, put everything to bed last weekend, and why she'd invited him over tonight, and why her heart was racing while she watched the door.

Then the knock came. She got up in such a hurry she almost tipped the chair over. She was in a panic and didn't know why. One hand went to her necklace, and that seemed to steady her. This was her house, broken screen door, leaky pipes, and all, and he was just a kid.

She opened the door to find him looking uncertainly over his shoulder, in ripped jeans and a T-shirt that had once been white, a hat with an unfamiliar cartoon turned sideways on his head.

"…You okay?"

"There's some guy with a lazy eye next door sitting on the lawn."

"Oh. Yeah. That's Shug. He likes to watch the sky at night."

"Well, he's creeping me out."

"Yo, Bella, what's good?" floated a voice from the adjacent house.

"Tutoring," she called back, heart picking up speed at the thought of anyone being able to place Edward at her house.

"Working." He laughed lightly, like he had a secret joke. "Always working."

"What are you up to?" she called.

"Ah, I'm just out here doing my thang. Orionids supposed to be shooting tonight."

"Well, good. You, uh, you have a good time."

"I always do, girl," he said with another secretive laugh. She ushered Edward in hurriedly.

"What's his deal?"

"He's a little off. Wicked smart, though."

He handed her the takeout bag. Somewhere inside, hot sauce packets slipped and tumbled down by the dozen.

"Want to eat in here, or the living room?"

"Let's eat in there," he said, thinking that the TV would take some of the pressure off.

The living room consisted of a single battered loveseat, puke-green, with a chipped wicker coffee table and a TV so old it had tubes and was a good eighteen inches deep from screen to back. Bella set the bag on the table and went rooting. She came up with both hands filled with hot sauce packets, looked at them for a moment, and glared at Edward.

"This is all you got?"

"Uh…I mean…"

She tilted her head and smirked. "I'm fucking with you. Thank you."

"Oh." He laughed nervously. "Yeah, uh, no problem."

She started setting out the food while he studied the clunky remotes on the table.

"So, which one turns on Netflix?"

"I get the DVD's," she said. "Here. Wait."

She went over to the TV, where there was a red envelope resting. She handed it to Edward with an affected nonchalance.

"It just got here, but we don't have to watch it or anything. I have a couple others."

He pulled the DVD out. It was, he was amazed to read on the paper sleeve, 2006's _Emperors of the Deep._ When he looked up, Bella was watching him and hurriedly turned her head.

"Sure," he said. "Whales are cool."

"So you want to watch it?" she asked. Was that delight he heard in her voice? _Probably imagining it,_ he thought. _Nice and easy, don't get too excited._

He was in Bella's house, and they were watching a documentary on whales on her disgusting couch that was scarred with cigarette burns while she ate greasy deep-fried chicken wings, drenched with hot sauce, and there was no place he'd rather be. She watched the TV like she was a little girl again, enraptured, and he watched her, also enraptured. Whales _were_ cool, but nothing could beat the view he had. The only distraction was when her hideous mutant of a cat plodded into view periodically to lick herself.

"Look at this part!" she exclaimed at one point, one hand shooting out and clutching his leg briefly.

He sucked in breath. She had only touched him for a couple of seconds, but he could feel it there afterward, lingering, as if she'd left prints behind.

"So amazing," she murmured, watching a whale birth underwater, and he told her in the same awed tone that yes, it really was.

He clung to all eighty-five minutes, but finally, far too soon, the credits rolled. Bella sat up as if coming out of a dream. She was no longer that little girl couch-side whale-watching. She had the familiar hard edge to her again. She stretched and got up.

 _Here we go_ , Edward thought, and even though he knew it had to come sometime, he wished he could rewind the night and play it over again just so he wouldn't have to leave.

"I'm gonna go get a beer," Bella said. "You want anything?"

"Oh, uh…yeah. I'll take a beer."

She questioned it for a moment in her mind, but she decided not to question _him_. Honestly, she couldn't even remember when she'd had her first beer, and she didn't want to come off as a scolding mother. But it made her think on her way to the kitchen of all the reasons he probably shouldn't be here.

She came back with two cans, handing him one. "Sorry, they're not that cold yet. I had to work a lot this week and I slept in."

"No, it's cool, I don't mind." He was looking at his can, reading Natural Ice, like he had never seen anything like it before, because it was his.

"You've…had beer before, right?"

He shrugged it off, playing it cool. "Oh, yeah. Plenty of times."

He opened it and took a tentative swig. His mouth worked. He swallowed.

"Ahh," he sighed like people did on TV. "Nothing like a nice cold one."

Bella burst out laughing. "You're a ham."

He looked wounded and pleased at the same time. He forced another swig down. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing." She was smiling at him.

She popped her own beer, drank half of it at a gulp, and lit a cigarette. After a moment's thought, she offered it his way.

"Want a drag?"

"Cool." He took it, holding it the wrong way but looking fearless.

"I'm not corrupting you, am I?" she asked half-seriously.

"No, what are you talking about?"

"You've never had a beer before. You were looking at it like it was gonna bite."

"I didn't mean to lie, but no, I haven't. It's good, though." He took a long swig to prove his point.

"Emmett never snuck you one?"

"Emmett guarded his beer like it was his balls."

Bella snorted. "Yeah, he sure did."

"So, you said you worked a lot this week?"

"Five doubles," Bella sighed.

"Shit. So that's breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner?"

"Yyyyep."

"I'm sorry. You must be so beat. I can get going if you want," he said, wanting anything but that, but feeling the need to offer.

"Nah, I slept till three today." She stubbed the cigarette out and lit another. "Plus, you're good company."

"Cool," Edward said, while inside choruses were singing and fireworks going off.

"How's school?"

"Eh. School. My algebra teacher keeps telling me I have to apply myself."

She sat up a little. "That's not Mr. Pitonyak, is it?"

"Yeah!"

"With the hairy—"

"Mole!" He dabbed at his cheek.

"Oh my god, he's the worst. I used to sit there staring at it wondering if I could just go up and rip the thing off." She swigged at her beer. "And then he'd tell me to apply myself, and I'd be like, 'Why don't you apply a chainsaw to your face and get that fucking thing off?'"

They laughed together easily.

"So, how's it feel to not be a virgin anymore?" she said, and his laughter dried up.

"It feels…cool," he said. "Weird."

"You know, I've only been with two people."

" _Really?_ " He looked at her—beautiful, blonde, tough as nails, and, as his dad might have said, stacked. "So, Emmett, and…who was the other one?"

"You, stupid."

"So, you and Emmett…and then, you and me? That's it?"

"Yeah, is that so hard to believe?"

"No, I mean…yeah. I mean." He decided to come out with it, the big question. "Why me?"

She stopped being amused. She'd been asking herself that same question all week.

"You need another beer?" she asked, polishing off her own.

"Yeah, that'd be good," he said, although he had half a can left. He wanted to keep going, playing by her rules, make this night last as long as he could.

She pushed herself to her feet in her fuck-the-world way and sauntered into the kitchen. She came back a minute later with the entire case and an answer.

"This way we won't have to get up," she said, flopping back down beside him—closer, he thought—and cracking a new beer. "You wanna know why?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Because I never had anyone look at me the way you do. I've had plenty of guys who wanted to fuck me, believe me, but you…" She looked at him, and that hardness was gone, like she'd decided to take it down and set it away. "There's just something different."

"Good different?" he said, mouth dry.

"Yes, Edward. It's good different."

She leaned over. He could smell the beer on her breath, so unlike the way it smelled in the can or the way it tasted, because it was coming from her, and then she was kissing him, lips firm and wet against him, and after a shocked moment, he let all thought and doubt slip away. He touched her face with both hands and drew her in closer, kissing her back. Edward had never French-kissed anyone before, and her tongue was in his mouth, strong and searching. He met it with his own, and she made a noise, a kind of cooing, satisfied noise. His pants were getting tight again.

They made out on the couch for some unknown time, his hands going from her face to her neck to her hair, stroking and petting. In this moment, she was his. His precious gift. Then she stood up, out of breath, and asked him if he wanted to go to her room. He did, and he told her so. She took his hand and led him up and away. He was lost in the moment, feeling drunk in more ways than one, but he still had enough presence of mind to think, _How do you like this, Billy?_

Her room was dark and small and, to put it nicely, undecorated. He followed her in like he was sleepwalking, stood while she shut the door, plunging them into total blackness.

"Wait, where are you?" he laughed.

"I'm right here," she said, and her hands were on his waist, pulling at his shirt. It caught on one elbow, him having to help her free it, both of them laughing, and then it was off. Once it was, he felt bare and hairless. He knew girls thought about stuff like that, and he had nothing above his waist but a few fine strands on his chest.

"Your turn," she said. His eyes were adjusting to the room. He saw her hold her arms up. Her eyes were impossibly wide, expectant.

He took her shirt off, his breath growing ragged. Under her shirt she was braless. His hands went to her on their own, running over her skin, so soft, so smooth, and found her breasts. She moaned in his ear. Her nipples stood out against his palms. He ran a finger over each, and she jerked against him.

"Do me," she breathed in his ear. "Please."

"Wait."

His hands were already at her jeans, working the button and then the zipper, pulling them down to her ankles. He pushed her back gently onto the bed. Dimly, he heard her gasp, then laugh. He pulled her jeans delicately from each ankle.

"Come here," she said. "Where are you?"

"I want to try something."

"Just come here, I want to feel you."

He spread her legs. He could feel her hands on his head, nails kneading at his scalp, while he kissed her, running his lips up her thigh, her grip on him growing tighter. He knew what he wanted to do, had wanted to do since she'd first come in out of the rain. He kissed the slight bit of stubble above her vagina, then slid his tongue down between the wet folds. He'd been nervous about this part, the taste everyone laughed about, but it wasn't like that. It tasted like…he didn't know. A little like metal, but the _sounds_ she made as he lapped made _him_ moan, and he decided right then that there was nothing better than eating pussy.

She was still working at his hair, clawing him. He guessed that meant he was doing a good job? But in a way, it didn't matter. He was loving it. He licked at her, running his tongue up and down, tasting her, feeling the places between the folds of her skin. Some of them made her cry out when he ran his tongue over them, so he licked them more.

"Edward, stop," she moaned.

He lifted his head up, licking his lips and feeling guilty, like when the rollercoaster starts slowing down at the end of the ride.

"Why?" he rasped.

"Because I'm gonna cum," she breathed.

Without thinking, he put his head back between her legs, licking faster than before, trying to find that same spot. She was moaning louder, clutching at him.

"Edward," she said. "Edward, Edward, oh, Edward."

 _Yes. Yes, it's me._

He found someplace with his tongue, and it must have been the right one, because she cried out hard, " _There! Right there! I'm gonna cum!_ " He kept going, moaning, grabbing her hips and licking her in that same spot, lapping up every drop of her while her breath came faster, and finally, she screamed, " _I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Fuck! Edward! I'm cumming!_ "

AN/ If you are reading please review, it will keep the chapters coming at a great rate as they really are an author's inspiration.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Seven

 _Do you want to stay over?_ she'd said.

Edward had never heard a more wonderful sentence in his life. He'd texted his mom to say he was sleeping over at Billy's, and at 12:04, on her way home, she'd texted back to tell him she hoped he'd had a good night and liked the Chinese food and to tell Mr. and Mrs. Tanush thanks for having him, the usual over-protective mom spiel. He would have texted her back, but he'd been asleep, holding Bella in his arms, sleeping better than he ever had.

He woke up first. At first he had the disorientation of waking up in a new place, his senses taking everything in. A dog barking. Someone distantly yelling, "Naw, man, you can't park that thing up in there!" The incessant nervous chatter of birds wondering where summer had gone. And then he felt the warm girl against him, her chest rising and falling, mahogany hair spilling over her pillow and his arm, and he felt at home.

"Good morning," he murmured.

She grunted beside him and turned over on her stomach.

He lay there, wide awake, for some time, believing and not believing where he found himself, content just to be there, until nature called. He held it as long as he could, not wanting to disturb Bella, but when the time came, he eased his arm out from under her head and slipped out from under the blanket, though he took an extra second to cover her up and kiss her cheek before he went.

He peed. He stretched. He exulted in the morning and in the memory of last night, having cum three times. And then, feeling better than he had in his life, he went to the fridge to scrounge up some breakfast, and found it empty except for a half-empty jar of mayonnaise, some expired pickles, and one lonely, moldy egg roll.

"Oh, fucking really…?"

He checked the freezer, which was stocked nearly to bursting. Hungryman dinners, Elio's pizzas, a pyramid of Hot Pockets, assorted Stouffers offerings ranging from mac and cheese to lasagna to Salisbury steak, and a neat stack of every frozen appetizer Fridays offered.

"Oh. Fucking really."

All of this equaled a trip to the bodega. He came back brandishing Tropical brand cheddar, a dozen eggs, a pound of butter, and a quart of milk, as well as, after some debate, salt and pepper. He even brought ketchup packets, thinking she might be one of _those_. He had unpacked the bounty and was ready to start on breakfast when the yowling started. From her seat atop the table, the heavy, slumped form came alive, eyes focusing on him, and Ariel began demanding _her_ breakfast.

"Fucking _really?_ "

Ariel licked her lips, lifted her head, and began yowling louder.

"Listen. Thing. I'll feed you, but _be quiet._ "

Ariel lurched to her feet with great effort, waddled to the edge of the table, and dropped. Edward had heard glasses shatter more quietly.

"Shh!" he said, while she plodded over to him. He found the food bag on top of the fridge and poured a cup into the bowl labeled Princess by the radiator, and silence circulated.

He moved with practiced speed, finding a blasted but serviceable pan forgotten in a cabinet, cracking the eggs, seasoning them, and pouring them in, whisking with a fork to keep the curds fluffy, then adding the cheese. When he was satisfied, he took them off the heat, and was turning to go back and gently wake Bella up when he heard the screen door fly open, and before he could process what was happening, a young black woman was striding into the house, dreadlocks flying behind her.

"Hey, girl, get up, get up, get up!" she chirped, waving two bags in her hands, when she caught sight of Edward.

"Yo, _what?_ You get fucking lost or something? Who the fuck are you?"

"I, I, I'm…"

Something seemed to click in her head. "Oh, you _jailbait!_ Aw, fuck." She called into the silent bedroom, "Aw, you _go_ , girl!"

"Shh, shh, she had a long week, she's sleeping."

From behind the closed door, the voice of the dead: "No, I'm not."

"Girl, get your ass out here, I got breakfast burriiiiitos!"

"No, but…I, I made…"

"S-s-s-speak up, son!"

"I made eggs!" Edward cried. "I made… _eggs_."

"Well, shit, boy, you don't gotta shout."

The bedroom door creaked in protest, and Bella made her appearance. "Yeah, Edward. I have neighbors."

"You don't say."

"Goddamn, girl, you look like you just got fucked into a coma."

"Angel, Edward. Edward, Angelique."

"Hi," Edward said, and then, hopefully, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, jailbait, what you think I got here?" To Bella: "I got an extra burrito for Ravon, but I don't know where the fuck he at, and he ain't answering, so I thought…hey, maybe my girl want a chorizo egg and cheese."

"Hot sauce? And extra ketchup?"

 _She_ is _one of those._

"You know it."

"Uh, Bella, I actually made some…"

"Thank you!" Bella cried, ignoring Edward, and snatched one of the bags from Angelique's offering hand. She went to the table, tearing into the burrito. "Saw Shug in the yard last night."

"Aw. Yeah. Orionids peaking."

"So I heard," Bella said, and started devouring.

"Wondering why you didn't join me at the club last night, but now I guess I know why," Angelique said, casting a sly eye on Edward. "Damn, boy, you must have a twelve-inch cock."

"He doesn't," Bella said, mouth full of burrito, "but at his age, he sure knows how to use it."

"Bella!"

"Jailbait, there's no shame in this house," Angelique said, taking the other chair at the table and opening her own burrito. "Ain't gonna lie, Bella, he cute. Jailbait, what are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Um…"

"Got my girl freaking out, waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn."

"…Thirteen?"

Angelique flew up, still chewing. "You fucking…" She looked wildly at Bella, then back at Edward. "For real?"

"I can show you my school ID…"

Angelique started cackling, going back to her burrito. "Aw, damn girl, you said you was in some trouble, but if he ain't cool, you _fucked_."

"I would never do that to Bella," Edward said stiffly.

Angelique ignored him. "So, what up, girl? How them doubles treating you?"

"Ugh. Fucking bitch. I wish Rob knew how to hire."

"Well, he musta done something right, he got you."

"He's gonna work me till I die on my feet."

"You shoulda been made a manager by now."

"You think so? I'm only nineteen."

"Girl, you been there _three. Years_. And you bust your ass for that place."

"He wouldn't want to lose me as a server."

"Well, that's his problem."

"Will someone please eat my eggs?" Edward asked.

Angelique nodded in his direction without quite looking at him, still eating her burrito. "Yo, jailbait making you breakfast? Where do I get me one of him?"

"What, things with J not working out?"

Angelique crooked her pinky finger downward. "J's thing didn't work out. We've been over, girl, I told you, didn't I?"

Suddenly there were heavy footsteps ascending out front, and Edward was beginning to wonder, even hope, that he was still asleep.

The door was flung open, and in came a man in a snazzy red silk shirt that was, even this early at this time of year, starting to darken with sweat. He was easily six-four, maybe bigger. And he was pissed.

"How the _fuck_ does someone ship a panda wrong, someone wanna tell me that?"

"No," Bella said, looking concerned. "What happened?"

"I just told you what happened," Angelique said. "Or didn't happen. Hey, I see an empty beer can when I come in? You got any extra?"

"Yeah, in the fridge."

"They're in the living room," Edward corrected.

"Yo, did I turn invisible?" the newcomer asked.

"Can you get Angelique one, Edward?"

"…Sure," Edward said, looking mournfully at his pan of sad, cooling, dying eggs, and went off.

"I just had to see a _man_ about a _panda._ It died!"

"Sorry, Ravon," Angelique said dismissively.

"This done _fucked up_ my day! Oh shit, someone make some eggs?"

Edward burst back into the kitchen, beer in hand.

"Yes! Please! Have some!" he exclaimed, gesturing towards the stove.

"Well, I don't mind if I do."

"No, let me heat them up for you."

"Damn. Aight. Thanks, lil chef."

"He might be little," Angelique said, "but he big where it counts."

"Angelique!" Bella yelled.

Ravon looked around, seeming to take everything in for the first time. "Yo, who the fuck is this kid, anyway?"

"Bella's cougaring," Angelique said.

Ravon looked serious. He walked over to where Bella sat, turning paternal, and pointed a finger at her. "That's dangerous business. Once, I had this girl—"

"No one wanna hear that, Ravon!" Angelique shouted.

"Eggs are ready," Edward said, holding a plate out for Ravon.

"Aight. Well, at least he housebroken."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

Edward had learned six things about Bella in the month since she'd taken his virginity. She ate like a forty-five year-old trucker with onset diabetes; she liked to be cuddled; that she clung to her Bad Bitch necklace like a security blanket along with its origin, a present from Angelique; her mother was an alcoholic who had inherited the house from her own mother, although she rarely spent more than a few nights a month there, and Bella paid all the bills; she was smart but not book-smart, had to use a calculator to do anything more than add; and she was the strongest person Edward had ever known or ever would but seemed to have no idea.

What he hadn't learned, however, what still kept him up at night, was what they were, what he really meant to her. He was over her house at least twice a week. They had had sex twenty if not thirty times, and he always wanted more. But it wasn't just about the sex anymore, if it ever was. He craved her company, her attitude, her witty responses, her light touches when she had her guard down, and above all else, how he felt when he was with her, like nothing else in the world mattered. But in the morning he always left wondering if he would ever hear from her again.

It was Sunday, their day. Sometimes they had Saturday night, and that was best. But as often as not she had to work the dinner and graveyard shifts at the diner; Sunday was their one guarantee, the few precious hours a week they could always count on. He hadn't heard from her yesterday, and now it was almost three o'clock. He wondered if he could just go over or if that was too much. He had tried very hard not to be too much for her, which was almost too much for him.

He was staring at his phone while Rick and Morty were puking and worrying their way through some crazy adventure in the background. He thought, _I'll go. What's the worst that could really happen?_ to which his worried mind began supplying answers. She could turn him away. She could yell at him for bothering her, tell him not to come back. Or, how about this? He could find her with someone else.

Luck was with him, though. Before he got too worked up, she texted him: _Hey, I know it's not ideal, but Ravon just got me a new TV for cheap. He's not too good with technology, do you think you could come help us set it up?_

He was out the door in two minutes, calling over his shoulder that he was going to Billy's for a while and then hopping on his bike. After their awkward first meeting, he had grown a weird affection for the Robinsons. They were quirky, they were loud, they were like the oddball next door neighbors on the most fucked-up sitcom you could ever imagine…but to Bella, they were family, and he respected that.

Mrs. Robinson had left three years ago, while CeCe was just learning to walk. She'd met a wealthy retiree at the Empire City Casino who'd been moving to Florida and wanted no attachments, and away she went. This left Ravon and Angelique to parent their two younger siblings and their one older one, Shug, who for all his intelligence didn't even know how to work a microwave and would sit all day watching the same channel until someone got home to work the remote for him.

The two households were the definition of being alone together. They existed in a single closed system, distrusting and shutting out the rest of the world, but among themselves having no shame or boundaries.

"I know what I'm doing, girl!" came Ravon's voice out of the open living room window as Edward pulled up. "You gotta set the motherfucker to channel 3, that's how a TV work!"

"This ain't the eighties, Ravon!" Angelique yelled back. "This one of them smart TV's—too smart for you!"

"You wanna try?"

"I _told_ you, it goes by _satellite_."

"Well, call fucking NASA, then, and let them figure this shit out!"

"Actually," Shug said, "I don't think NASA would involve themselves—"

"Cece, get that cable out your mouth! You don't know where that's been!"

"Ain't that the truth," Ravon said.

"Fell off a truck," Shug chuckled. "Just tumbled on off."

"Shug, go get CeCe another juice box, and go get yourself one while you're at it," Angelique said. "Make sure Major ain't playing barbershop with that damn cat again."

Edward stepped into the living room, where the Robinsons filled the room and Bella was withdrawn into a corner, head in one hand, beer in the other. She looked up when he came in, eyes weary.

"An hour-and-a-half, Edward," she said. "I just wanted a TV, that's all. I just wanted a fucking TV so the whales on the Nature Channel didn't look green."

"You know, whales sleep with one brain hemisphere at a time, which allows them to come to the surface to breathe," Shug said in a low voice from the back of the room. He sucked contemplatively at his Hi-C, which looked matchbox-sized in his giant hand. "There's still a lot we don't know about the sleeping patterns of whales."

Bella looked blearily at him, waved one incredulous hand in his direction, and nodded. "…Thanks, Shug," and then back to Edward, pleading. "Please help this."

"I know what I'm doing!" Ravon said from behind the TV. "I put Angel's car stereo in…I ain't no goddamn dummy!"

"So why the country music station always switch to them preachers whenever I hit a bump?" Angelique asked accusingly.

Ravon's head shot up, his eyes bugging white. "Clearly, you need Jesus!" He dipped back to the TV. "Where the fuck this old-ass cable supposed to go, I swear to God, I drill a new hole if I have to…"

"Bella, I thought you didn't have wifi," Edward said.

The Robinsons stopped and turned their heads his way. Ravon's head slowly rose, staring at him from over the TV.

"What are you talking about?" Bella asked. "Isn't that, like, for the phone?"

"For a smart TV, you have to have Internet," Edward said, flushed from the attention. "I think."

"Aw, mother…" Ravon threw several pounds of cable to the floor and bolted upright. "Girl, you telling me I'm trying to stuff some fucking AV cable into a wifi port? What you want me to do next, marry off Angelique?"

"Hey!" Angelique shouted.

"Sorry, guys, I don't know how this shit works."

Edward, in fifteen seconds or so, explained how it worked, and Ravon, Angelique, and Bella decided to go thirds on an Internet plan. After a silent, bitter car ride to Best Buy in Angelique's battered Honda, Edward set up Bella's new modem and router, as well as the Robinsons'.

It was now six o'clock. CeCe was asleep on the Robinsons' couch, Shug was equally as asleep on the recliner, and Edward and Bella whispered their goodbyes at the door. While they crossed the lawn to Bella's house, the words came out of her mouth just as Edward had expected: "I'm hungry."

"We could go to the store," he said. "Pick up something I could cook for dinner."

"Nah, I got plenty in the freezer."

"Bella. Hang on a sec."

She looked down at him. "What?"

"You need to eat something else."

"What do you mean?"

"Something other than diner food, Chinese, or something in a box out of the freezer. You need to eat something that's not deep-fried. You need a _balanced diet_. Like, some… _vegetables._ "

"Ew, gross."

"Bella! Do you want to die of a heart attack when you're twenty-five!?"

"Don't be a pussy," she said, lighting a cigarette.

"It's a _real thing,_ Bella. You eat like one of those obese four year-olds on Dr. Phil."

"Ew, that bald guy?"

"That…that's not the point! Let me make you something. Please?"

"What are you, trying to play house husband? If I wanted one of those, I'd marry a bull dyke."

"Look. I got twenty bucks from my allowance."

She rolled her eyes. "Allowance. Great."

"Just, let me make you something. If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it. You can always pull something out of the freezer."

"But we can do that _right now_ ," she pouted. But there was a spark in her eyes. He saw it even in the deepening twilight, in the dim flickering of the streetlight at the curb. She was intrigued.

"Come on," he said. "We can walk to ShopRite in Ghetty Square and be back in twenty minutes."

"You want me to walk now? Aren't you scared I'll have a heart attack?"

"I'll risk it. Let's go."

She sat at her kitchen table, smoking and observing him suspiciously. Even Ariel looked questioningly, lifting her head towards the smells coming from the stove and oven. Edward felt like he was on stage, hyperaware of her eyes on his back, but he pushed through. He had made it easy on them both, nothing that took too long to prepare or was too different from the greasy crap she was used to eating. Roasted chicken breasts, ribs in, skin on and slathered in Pam to crisp it, mashed potatoes with tons of heavy cream and butter, and finally, the vegetable, brussels sprouts with cheddar cheese and bacon bits.

She had to admit, it smelled good, even the funny-looking tiny cabbages, and by the time he was putting on the finishing touches, her mouth was watering.

She was full-fed, having eaten everything on her plate and even going back for more sprouts, which Edward watched with pride. He had been eyeing her the whole time, neglecting his own plate to the point where she looked up and asked through a mouthful of chicken, "What's wrong, you're not hungry now?"

The butterflies in his stomach made it hard to be hungry, but he ate as much as he could. It relaxed him to see her devour what he'd made. Just to know there was something he could do to make her happy, something tangible, not just being the person she had sex with in secret.

But it wasn't so secret anymore, was it? Once they had laid their plates on top of the other dishes piled in the sink, they went into the living room to check the color quality of the Nature Channel. Bella lit up a cigarette and oohed and aahed over the dolphins, which were a crisp gray rather than the sickly yellow on her old TV. Beside her, Edward smoked his own cigarette slowly, his mind clouded with how to phrase the question.

"So, the Robinsons know about us," he said.

"Huh? Yeah. Obviously."

"I just…thought we weren't supposed to tell anyone."

"It's not like telling _anyone._ Angelique's like my twin sister, and that makes the Robinsons family. I could trust them with my life, and I mean that."

"I told Billy," he said, relieved.

She snapped her head towards him, ponytail whipping against her shoulder. "Billy _who?_ "

"Billy. My best friend. You met him at my house before."

"The kid with the _braces?_ "

"He's getting them off next month…"

"Are you _serious?_ You told some other kid about us? After everything I told you, after everything…I can't believe you!"

"He's like my brother, like you and Angelique," he protested.

"I knew you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Me and Angelique have covered each other's asses more than I can tell you. We've _been through stuff_ together." She was leaned in close to him, eyes wide, and for the first time, he wished she was farther away. "I can't believe you, Edward! Some kid who's probably going around telling everyone right now!"

"He wouldn't do that," Edward said, but he was no longer sure of that himself.

She sighed and put her head in her hands. "I knew this was a bad idea."

"No, no, no, Bella, it's okay."

"I don't know what I was thinking."

"He didn't even believe me," he said, grasping at straws. "I mean, I told him, I had to tell _someone_ , and I know I can trust him, whatever you think, but, listen…Bella. He didn't believe any of it. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," she said without looking up. "I think you should go."

"Bella, wait!" he cried, voice suddenly high. "It's not like you think! I wasn't going around, I mean, I just, you had to tell Angelique, obviously—"

"Angelique's not going to say anything. And that's none of your business anyway. It's not your ass on the line, Edward. You're not the one who would go to jail."

"But he didn't even _believe_ me."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But still. I think we have to end this here."

The words caught in his throat. "But I love you."

She scoffed. "You don't know what love is."

"I know what I feel when I feel it," he said.

Maybe another time it would have been enough, but tonight she only saw a future of public showers and a seven-by-ten cell, of every opportunity she'd managed to scrape out of the shit she'd had the bad luck to grow up in ripped away for good. She'd stupidly trusted him because she'd liked him a lot more than she thought she would, because she'd seen something _more_ behind his eyes than what she now saw sitting beside her: a kid, teary-eyed, only a few years beyond accidentally wetting himself at school, pulled by her into something he couldn't understand. What had she been thinking?

The answer was clear: she hadn't been. But now it was time to put things right.

"Thank you for dinner," she said. "And for…whatever it was."

"Was?" he asked, feeling his eyes prickle and hating himself for it. He had never felt less in control of his emotions. They boiled over the top of all the walls he'd managed to erect to hold them in place.

"You're too young for me, Edward. When you're older, you'll see that."

"You can't really mean that," he said. His voice shook. "After everything between us?"

"You mean after we fucked," she said. Her stomach was churning, but he had no way of knowing that; she wouldn't allow it to show. All he saw and heard was cold stone. "Fucking's just fucking, Edward. When you're older, you'll see that too."

"Did you ever care about me?"

"Go home. Get some sleep. You'll forget about me before you know it. Go find the girl who should have been your first."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Nine

It was easy enough to play hooky for a week straight when you were dying inside. When his mom looked in his eyes, they were weak and watery, all the capillaries standing out like fiery threads; when she felt his forehead, it burned; when she tried to feed him, he wouldn't leave his bed. He wouldn't watch TV or check his phone. Sometimes he hobbled to the bathroom and stuck his head in the toilet to try to throw up what was killing him, but you couldn't throw up your own heart. Even he was old enough to know that.

Eventually Billy showed up. He had a folder stuffed with homework for Mrs. Cullen, asking if he could bring it upstairs himself.

"He's very sick, Billy." Her voice came up through the ducts beside Edward's bed, as clear as if she were right beside him. "I took him to Urgent Care on Friday, and they say it's some kind of virus. I don't think you should be around it, I don't want you getting sick too."

"Is he feeling any better?" Billy asked. He sounded worried, but not in the way Edward's mom expected.

"He just needs his rest," she said.

After a moment, Edward's voice came limply down through the ducts: "Billy can come up."

The floor downstairs creaked as his mother hurried to the stairwell. "Honey? How are you feeling?" Billy followed behind anxiously.

Edward groaned, wrapped a blanket around his thin shoulders, and lurched out of his room and over to the stairs, looking down at his mother and Billy, who both looked like they'd seen a ghost.

"A little better, I think," he said, trying not to shiver. His whole body ached. "Can Billy come up?"

She looked back and forth between the boys, thinking with a mother's intuition that this might be just what he needed. "Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. But then, back to bed."

Edward nodded and turned around, trailing his blanket behind him like an oversized cape. He heard Billy's steps behind him but didn't stop until he was burrowed back in bed. Billy closed the bedroom door behind him, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.

"Hey. Dracula. What's good with you?"

Edward groaned from under his blanket.

"Man, I told you you should just let it go," Billy said, his voice suddenly somber.

"I couldn't. I told _you_ that."

Billy sighed and pushed a pile of clothes off the computer chair, taking a seat. "So, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it." There were already tears in his voice.

"I just don't get it, you were so happy. You were like the happiest guy in the world all last month."

"It's over."

"Yeah. I figured. Man…couldn't you like buy her something? That's what my dad does whenever my mom's not talking to him."

The blanket slid down, revealing two furious eyes glaring out of the dark. "No…you don't get it. It's _over_ because of _you._ "

" _Me?_ What the fuck did I do?" Billy sounded incredulous.

"She thinks I'm too _young_ for her because I told you, and now you're gonna tell everyone."

"I didn't fucking tell anyone!"

The floor creaked distantly. "Boys…? Everything all right up there?"

Billy turned toward the door, his voice instantly turning sunny. "Yes, Mrs. Cullen!"

"All right…" A long pause from downstairs, and then the creak of her going away.

Billy leaned forward, hissing. "Listen. I didn't tell anyone. Not Takaki, not Caddy. And _'no grown-ups.'_ " He rolled his eyes.

"But you could've."

"Yeah, I could've! And what would people think of me that you lost it first?"

There was a long pause, and finally Edward snickered under the covers.

"That you're a little bitch," he murmured.

"Fucking A," Billy said. "So what do I want to go around telling everyone for? Even though I don't give a shit that I like, promised you on my life."

"Yeah…" Edward said. "So what do I do?"

"What if I talked to her? You know, promise I wouldn't say anything, wouldn't ever talk."

"Yeah, that'd look great. I bring another kid over to make my case for me."

"I'm a persuasive guy, man. Remember when I had Takaki convinced he was adopted?"

Edward chuckled again. They fell into silence.

"You really care about her?" Billy asked.

"I love her."

"Uh, woah there, Romeo."

"I don't care what you say. I don't care what she says either. I know how I feel."

"Well…then maybe you should tell her."

"I tried."

"Like how? Like you were some desperate kid so scared to lose her you'd say anything?"

Edward sniffled. "Yeah…"

"So try again and do it right this time."

" _How?_ "

Billy thought a moment. "Do it like a man."

The letter wasn't postmarked. It had been hand-delivered. Bella noticed it right away stuck in among the bills, flyers, circulars, and coupons. It was addressed to her in neat handwriting: _Andrea Jane Swan_ , and below that, in bold letters underlined for emphasis, _PRIVATE._ For a moment, she thought of Emmett, a new desperate attempt after his blizzard of texts and phone calls had failed to get through to her. Emmett's handwriting was even worse than hers, though, the scribbling of a third-grader writing with his non-dominant hand, and besides, Emmett would never have been smart enough—or blindly romantic enough—to think of it.

She let out a long sigh. Life had been so uncomplicated over the last week: work, sleep, feed Ariel and pull something out of the freezer for herself, throw the junk mail into the heap beside the microwave, do a few dishes when there were Hot Pockets involved. She had even attempted to go to the bar one night with Angelique and found little joy in it except for the brutal bluntness with which she had brushed off every sleazeball who came up to talk to her. She had masturbated one night when sleep wouldn't come, and after cycling through various fantasies had been on the verge of giving up when the thought of bright hazel eyes floated into her head and, seconds later, she'd gotten off.

She missed him. It wasn't just the fucking. She missed their casual conversations, nights on the couch, the way he looked at her, touched her, said her name like it was some precious jewel. He didn't see her the way everyone else did, even—especially—the micks down on McClane that thought themselves better than the white trash who lived below the line and saw her as an easy mark, just another slut who'd spread her legs for a few drinks. To Edward, she was a hard-working woman who'd made the best of a bad situation, being the especially unlucky meeting of sperm and egg. He saw the best in her even when she couldn't see it in herself.

Rather than chuck her mail on the heap, she took the time to sort it, always mindful of the envelope in the corner of her eye. For the first few days, she'd really thought she'd put an end to it and not a minute too soon. She breezed through her doubles like they were vacations. She came home, slept soundly, got up, repeated. But the little things began to creep into the edges of her mind, even if she hadn't wanted to admit it to herself. At odd moments of the day, she'd think of him and smile and then remember the coldness and withdraw into that.

 _Ah, fuck it_ , she thought, setting down the handful of envelopes she still held and turning to the only one that mattered. Ariel meowed and curled herself heavily around Bella's ankle.

"Just a minute, baby," she said. "Dinner's coming right up."

She slit the envelope from end-to-end with one long, irregular nail and let the single sheet of notebook paper fall onto the counter.

 _Bella,_

 _You didn't pull me into anything. Honestly, I think I pulled you in, and that's what really scares you. I think above all that what truly terrifies you about us, is that someone might really care about you, someone who wouldn't leave you for someone younger, someone who really wants you for you, just the way you are. You are rude, obnoxious sometimes, can be gross sometimes especially when it comes to the lack of napkin to hot sauce ratio, but you are kind, and tough but you care about people, more than most and I know somewhere in your heart you do care about me. Other things I know are that you sleep on your side when you want to be cuddled and on your stomach when your too hot and just want to sleep deep. You love everything under the water, probably wanted to be a mermaid or something when you were little. You probably think that you're bad for me, probably think you're a bad influence on me, but I can't think of anyone else I'd like to keep close to me to show me how a real person overcomes life. I love you, I didn't just say it out of desperation so you might ask me to stay. I said it because it's true. I know you think I'm too young, too young for you but I know what's in my heart and I know without you it doesn't beat it burns. I can't let this go without you knowing these aren't just words to me. So maybe, just maybe, on paper you'll listen._

 _Edward_

 _P.S. I already found the girl who should have been my first. She was._

She was. And, shit, she was definitely _not_ about to cry.

"Yo, jailbait back again," Angelique said from the window, where she'd gone to get her cigarettes from the ledge. Outside, Edward was pedaling past on his bike to the end of the street, then back again.

"He does that," Bella sighed.

"Girl, you gotta call animal control on him. What's it been now, a week?"

"Two. Since I saw him, I mean."

"He ain't gonna give up."

"Doesn't seem like it."

"He gotta taste of that sugar space."

"What does that even mean?"

"Girl, you _know_ what it means, don't be dense. That boy loooove you."

"He doesn't even know what love is."

"Who you trying to convince? Cuz it's not me. No boy ever looked at me like that. No quote-unquote man, neither."

"Are you watching the brussels sprouts? I don't want them to burn."

"They just supposed to be in water, right? How you _burn_ water?"

"I don't know. They can overcook, right?"

"Ain't they just little cabbages? My grandmamma cooked cabbage all damn day and it come out fine. You should go on out there and invite this boy in for a fine meal. And dinner first."

"It's KFC and brussels sprouts."

"Finger licking good, all I'm saying."

"Angel!"

"All right, all right, you ain't in the mood to be cute, I see that. Must be that time of the month. I got mine the other day, you know what they say about synchronizing."

"Angelique, I don't have my period."

"Girl! I thought we were close."

" _Anyway_. No. I'm not gonna invite him in. He's gonna do what he's gonna do until he gets tired out and goes home."

"Lemme read that letter again." Bella produced it from a kitchen drawer, well-worn from repeated rereading, and Angelique skimmed, eyes moving from line to line before tipping up knowingly at Bella. "He ain't going home. You know it's Sunday. Fore long he gonna have a tent out in the front yard." She went back to the window, where Edward was just cycling out of sight before he'd return in five minutes or so. "I just dunno why he going so damn far up Prospect the other way."

"I think he's trying to be inconspicuous."

"Well, he doing a hell of a job."

The sun was down, the sky turned indigo except for a narrow band of orange out towards the river, and Edward made his twentieth loop of the evening around Bella's neighborhood. He promised himself two more loops, and then he'd continue tomorrow as he'd started last Tuesday, between school and dinner.

He circled around the end of the block, catching a glimpse of a light on in Bella's kitchen, and then pushed on, standing up on the pedals through the weeds and broken glass, and back up Prospect toward Ghetty Square. The streetlights were all out on this side of the block, the sidewalks empty except for the odd figure shrouded in deepening night, most of them women hustling groceries home.

"Hey, boy!"

The call came seemingly in his right ear from a stretch of hedge running three houses long. He jumped, wavered, and almost fell flat on his side before jerking one leg out, scraping it painfully against the underside of the pedal, and just managing to catch himself. He turned. There was a kid coming across the sidewalk, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a younger kid, head shaved and nose trickling, looking at Edward like he was roadkill.

"You been riding up and down this street the last hour. What are you, junior 5-0?"

"Hey," Edward said, feeling a deep gash through the torn leg of his jeans. "Just out riding."

"Nice ride."

"Thanks," Edward said. "It's not that nice. The chain's all rusted."

"You ain't from around here, are you?"

"No, I am. I live down on Prospect."

"I only know one white family who lives on Prospect. Ain't never seen you around, though."

"Well, I gotta go. Nice talking to you."

"Hold up, we still talking," the kid said, taking hold of the handlebars.

Out of instinct, Edward tried to pull it out of his grip, but the kid bore down, holding him in place.

"Yo, Julio, where he going all a sudden?" the younger kid asked.

"Let go," Julio said. "Don't need to get nasty, now."

"I'm not, I—I'm sorry, I just have to get home."

"We'll walk you. Come on, lemme ride, I'll take you the whole way back."

"No thanks, I'm good."

"I'm not asking anymore. Get off the bike."

Before Edward could make his mind up, a fist looped down and caught him in the eye. Pain exploded there, and he was dimly conscious of falling before he hit pavement and the breath was knocked out of him. He gasped loud wheezing sounds into the night air. His leg was still secured into the left pedal. Julio kicked it out, hard, and it landed in the street beside the rest of him.

"Punk-ass wanna-be hero," Julio said, and spat. "Come on, Miguel, hop on." Miguel did, and as Julio pushed off on Edward's bike, Edward heard the older boy shouting, "And cling on tight, now, I don't need to be bringing you home with half your head cracked open!"

Angelique cracked another beer. The brussels sprouts, limp and mushy, sat mostly uneaten in a bowl on the living room table, covered in Cheez Whiz and soggy, fatty bacon. The KFC bucket was empty except for one lonely drumstick amidst smears of grease and crumblings of Extra Crispy batter.

"I dunno," Angelique said, "Ravon says I could be making fat stacks at this new club."

"You been at Underground for six months. Isn't that like, twice as long as any other job?"

"Underground's shit. I mean, I know, girl, but I'm a fucking server. You don't make shit as a server at a hole-in-the-wall like that place."

"I work at a fucking diner, for Christ's sake. We don't even serve alcohol and I get by…besides, aren't you gonna be serving at this club?"

" _Cocktails_ , my girl. Cocktails. There's serving, and then there's _serving_."

"But it's like a strip joint, right?"

"Gentleman's club."

"Right."

"Ain't no one taking their clothes off! I mean, I ain't gonna be wearing too much, but that's the point, ain't it?"

A knock came at the door.

"Aw, he found his balls," Angelique laughed.

Bella sighed and set the cigarette she'd just lit into the grooves of the ashtray. "Let me take care of this."

"Don't be too hard on the boy. And don't do anything you ain't gonna be able to take back. I know you, girl."

Bella went to the door, heart thudding, face hot. She groped for that coldness and, with some effort, found it, but as soon as she opened the door, it was gone. Edward stood there with one eye swollen nearly shut and a ragged tear down the side of his jeans. His sock on that side was soaked with blood.

"Can I come in?" he asked thickly.

"Oh my god," she breathed. Something bright flared in her heart. She scooted him inside. "Edward, what _happened_ to you?"

"They took my bike."

"What…who?"

"Julio."

"Julio _who_?"

"He didn't leave his card," Edward said flatly.

Angelique came rushing in, dreads flying behind her, finger jabbing. "Yo, that Julio from up on Jackson?"

"He's got a brother named Miguel," Edward said, limping as Bella helped him to the kitchen table. "That's all I know."

Angelique's eyes flicked to Bella, turning from angry to furious. "That's the Sanchez boys. They ain't no good. But they never done nothing to no one from the neighborhood, 'cept for what happened to the Wilson kids' dog, and that mighta been an accident."

Bella was in the freezer, pulling out a Hot Pocket and offering it to Edward. "Here, put this on your eye."

Edward flinched a moment at the sight of it, then accepted. He hissed in breath as it touched his face.

"That little fucking wannabe hoodlum," Angelique said. Her hands were on her hips. "Edward, I'ma have Ravon set this right, don't you worry."

"Okay," Edward said, still trying to collect himself. "Thank you."

He hissed again, drawing his gashed leg back from where Ariel had brushed up against it.

"Holy shit," Bella said. "Edward, that looks bad."

"It's not as bad as it looks."

"I might have some peroxide, if my mom hasn't drank it by now. Hold on."

Edward nodded, looking gratefully at her with his good eye. Angelique looked at the two of them, knowing her presence wasn't needed any longer.

"Yo, girl!" she called toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna get home, check out how the fam doing, or else Shug be watching them infomercials, ordering everything he sees."

"Okay," Bella called back, distracted. "See you tomorrow."

"You're gonna be okay," she said to Edward. "We're gonna make this right."

"Okay."

She lowered her voice. "She's a hard nut to crack. But damn if you're not the best thing for her right now."

"Thank you," he said, surprised and grateful. "Hope I see you again soon."

"Boy," she said. "you will."

The front door closed as Bella came out of the bathroom bearing a plastic bottle.

"It's a little expired," she said, "but I think it'll do okay."

They got his jeans off, and she soaked some peroxide onto a paper towel. He tensed and clenched his teeth but didn't move or make a sound.

"You're stupid," she said as she cleaned the wound.

"Huh?"

"Riding around this neighborhood at night."

"You knew I was here?"

She looked directly in his eyes. "How could anyone not. You were basically wearing a sign."

"…Did you get my letter?"

She pressed a little too hard, and he jerked his leg away.

"Sorry," she said. "Sorry. I'm almost done." Gingerly, he offered his leg back, and she continued cleaning. "Yeah, I got your letter."

"I haven't heard from you."

"I thought it best." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "You'll move on."

He looked angry now. "I'm _not_ just going to move on, what don't you get about that?"

"Love is not just a feeling, Edward," she said, feeling like an imposter, not knowing if she'd ever felt it herself. "It's about being realistic."

"I _am_ being realistic. No one is going to find out about us. I will make sure of it. And I'm _damn_ sure that _no one_ at this current time feels the way I do about you."

She finished cleaning his wound, saying nothing but seeming agitated.

"That should be okay." She got up, closing the peroxide bottle and tossing the bloody paper towel into the trash. Almost casually, she said, "If you weren't such a dummy, none of this would have happened. You shouldn't be on this side of the neighborhood without an adult."

" _You_ are _so. Fucking. Infuriating!_ " he shouted, startling her into turning around. "You act like you're so old and so wise, and maybe you are in some ways, but you don't know _shit_ about what's really important! You see any adults around here? Because I don't. You and Angelique raise your damn selves! CeCe, Major, they're lucky to have Ravon and Angelique! Who did you have? No one! Now someone wants to be here for you and it's intimidating? Grow up!"

She laughed hollowly. "You think you know me now? Ever ask, where's Daddy, and your mom responds, 'Who?' Every moment of my life after my grandmom died was trying to convince my mother that I was worth keeping for child support, that I wasn't too much of a burden. Have you ever tried to return a _llama_ , at nine years old?"

"What does a llama have to do with this!"

"Never mind. We should get you home."

"Fine! I'll walk!"

"You'll get jumped before you make it three blocks!"

"Oh okay, sage of the ghetto."

"What does that even _mean?_ Just go in my bed! I'll sleep on the couch!"

"No, no, please! Don't do me any favors!" he shouted, hobbling off into the living room and flopping down on the loveseat, angling his hurt leg up over one of the arms. He lay there for some long minutes, catching his breath. He heard her coming in and closed his eyes. She dumped a blanket over top of him.

"Hey," she said. "You awake?" He breathed shallowly. "Fine. Be that way."

She stormed off, flipping the light off behind her. In the kitchen, a match snapped alight, and she smoked a cigarette in quick snatches before stubbing it out and shutting the lights off there as well. Her bedroom door opened and closed, and then the house was still and silent. When he was sure, he pulled off his T-shirt, wincing when it brushed his eye, and lay there, pulling the comforter up over him against the November chill coming through a hundred cracks in the walls. He lay there for some unknown time, wide awake, his eye and leg both singing in pain, expecting to lie there until he could slink out come daylight. Then, slowly, the bedroom door opened, and there were footsteps behind him.

"Hey," she said softly from the doorway. Her feet drew closer, bare against the hardwood floor. He felt her hand touch his neck. "Come to bed, Edward." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His resentment melted away as she pulled the blanket off him and gathered it up in one arm. "I'm sorry. Just come to bed."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Ten

"Can someone please kill that fucking dog?" Bella muttered into her pillow.

Edward, whose arm was looped around Bella's waist, closed his eyes at once, then opened them, pretending to just be waking up, when she rolled his way and kissed him on the cheek. He nuzzled her and kissed her back.

"Ugh," she said. "You stink."

"Yeah, you smell like roses right now," he said with a smile, and clutched her tighter.

Outside, a dog continued its monotonous barking.

"Uggggggh," Bella moaned.

Edward groped for his phone. "We should get up anyway. It's eleven-thirty."

"No," Bella said. "Go find that dog and shoot it and let me sleep."

"I left my gat at home. Come on, up."

"No," Bella said. "Go to school."

"It's summer. Come on, we're wasting the day."

"Go away."

"Fine. I'm gonna go take a piss and feed your stupid cat. Where do you keep the rat poison?"

"Under the sink," Bella murmured.

"Good."

"Don't you fucking dare," she said, already falling back asleep.

Edward got up, tiptoeing over piles of dirty clothes and around the roaring fan Bella had set up in place of air conditioning. It was the Monday after finals week, and the summer stretched wide in front of him, an incredible luxury of two-and-a-half months to spend with Bella whenever he liked. His mother had gotten used to him sleeping at Billy's Saturday nights. She also knew that Bella was tutoring him.

"Your grades have really improved," she had said once around his midterms. "Here, I'm giving you an extra twenty for Bella. Tell her she's a lifesaver."

"Will do," Edward had said, already dreaming of what he could make for dinner with the extra twenty.

"I don't know how someone who never finished high school could have such a knack for math. I don't know why she doesn't do something with it instead of busting her buns at that diner."

"Well, she's tutoring…"

Edward's grades _had_ improved, shooting up from a low C over much of the fall in algebra and earth science to a B+ in the former and A- in the latter. Bella had had little to do with it beyond motivation. He'd just gone from the lonely hell of courting her to dating her, feeling more confident in their relationship, with the added fact that if he didn't get all his homework done, he didn't get laid.

"I've got to have her over for dinner sometime," his mom had added. "Will you ask her if she'll be free one night? She deserves a home-cooked meal."

"Sure," Edward said, imagining sitting around the table with Emmett ogling Bella the whole time, not knowing that she was Edward's. He hadn't passed on his mom's invitation.

He'd finished the year with near-honors, and this summer Bella was going to be working with him, he'd told his mom, to get a jump start on next year's geometry.

When he came out of the bedroom, Angelique was sitting at the kitchen table in a yellow sundress, smoking a cigarette and looking pissed.

"What the hell, you two gonna sleep the whole day away?" she asked Edward, who in his boxers was feeling a little underdressed. His hands went protectively to his bare stomach.

"Uh, hi," he said. "You try getting her up before one."

"Well, I gotta talk to her." Angelique got up, trailing smoke toward the bedroom. "You wanna feed that fucking rat?"

"Not especially," Edward said under his breath, but went to the bag atop the fridge dutifully.

"Hey, girl!" Angelique called through the door.

"Nooooo!"

"Get up. I need your help."

"Oh, why does it always have to be help?"

"I don't want to hear it from you! Creeping in like some kinda rapist telling me about _that one_." She nodded toward Edward.

"What could you possibly need?"

"Ravon got his ass busted and we gotta bail him out. Well, I gotta get to Ronny John's, so… _you_ gotta bail him out."

"You want me to haul my ass downtown now?"

"Downtown?" Angelique laughed. "Oh, shit, no, girl, his ass in Portland."

" _Portland?_ " The bedroom door ripped open, Bella standing there naked but for a pair of worn granny panties and her Bad Bitch necklace. Edward, familiar as he was with every contour of her breasts, cocked his head for a peek and smiled adoringly. "You want me to go to fucking _Portland_ today? I was gonna plant my ass on the couch and watch the game and make Edward make me dinner, and you want me to drive a _hundred_ miles to spring Ravon…what the hell did he do, anyway?"

"Something about a permit, I don't know. And it's more like a hundred-seventy miles, so put those big old boobies away and get going."

Angelique's car was a 2002 Toyota Corolla that shuddered if you pushed it over sixty-five and had no working seatbelt on the passenger side. When Bella hit eighty on Interstate 5, Edward gripped the oh-shit bar overhead while his ass bounced against his seat.

"Don't be a pussy. I know how to drive," Bella said.

"Just never been in a car with you before."

"Relax, Jesus, I promise I'm not going to kill you. At least not by accident."

Oregon passed them by outside, all fir trees and open fields reeking of manure.

"Are you staring out the window or are you doing your job?" Bella asked impatiently.

"We stay on this for fifty miles, I told you. We're taking this all the way down through Oregon."

"Smells like Oregon," Bella said.

Edward tried to open the window. It squealed down a couple of inches then stopped. He lit a cigarette, handed it to Bella, then lit one for himself.

"What's Ronny John's?"

"I told you, Angel's working at that tattoo place doing piercings."

"Uh, you did not. Are you sure she's qualified to be doing that kind of thing?"

"It's fine, they're training her. Got her starting on penises."

"I…eh…ugh."

"She says she likes it."

"Right."

"She says if I wanted, maybe she could get me a job there," Bella said with a glimmer of a smile.

"Bella! You are not touching penises all day!"

"God, you're so easy to fuck with."

"Ah. Good one."

"But she did say she could get me a job at the club. I could cut back at the diner."

"Oh! Really. Like, not so many doubles?"

"Yeah. Maybe no doubles. She says the money's pretty great."

"So…why's she piercing penises too?"

"She's trying to expand her horizons."

They rolled south, counting cars for five or ten minutes, until Bella got bored. They passed Cheesequake, Matawan, Ho-ho-kus, Edward delightedly exclaiming the name of each until Bella told him to shut up. Edward cycled through the presets on the radio.

"Why does Angelique have all the country stations programmed in?"

"She says she's an urban cowgirl."

"…Has she even been on a horse?"

"Well, there was this place Teddy's that used to have a mechanical bull, but it closed. Hep C outbreak in the kitchen."

Edward nodded. "Uh-huh…"

"She used to say she was gonna be the first black country singer. I told her, first of all, you can't sing, second, that's not a thing."

"What about Charley Pride?"

"Huh?"

"Charley Pride. Isn't he a black country singer?"

"Are you…what's wrong with you?"

"What, just saying."

"Fine, black _female_ country singer—you know what? That's not the point."

"I'm hungry."

"You gonna wait."

"No, but I'm like…really, really hungry."

"And you're like, really, really gonna wait. We just passed a rest stop. There's probably not another for like twenty miles."

"I don't want to go to a rest stop. I want real food."

"What? This isn't a fucking vacation, Edward. I'm sure we can stop someplace that has chicken fingers."

"I don't want chicken fingers…I think I want soup."

"It's fucking June!"

"There's cold soups, you know."

"What the fuck is a cold soup?"

"Gazpacho. Cucumber."

"Gazpach- _who?_ "

"It's tomato soup served cold, with like, onions and stuff. Sometimes cilantro."

"I don't know what the hell you're saying half the time. Are you sure you're thirteen?"

"Gonna be fourteen in a couple weeks."

"I know, I know."

"You said we could do something special."

"Edward, you're the worst navigator ever. Where are we?"

"Stay on I-5 for…thirty-two miles."

"Ugggggh…"

"Wanna play Twenty Questions?"

"Sure."

"Okay, I got something."

"What."

"You're supposed to ask _questions_."

"You're such a brat. Fine. What color is it?"

"Kinda pale."

"Is it alive?"

"Sometimes. Mostly in the afternoon."

Bella sighed. "Is it me?"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"Dumb fucking game."

"Okay, your turn."

"Fuck you."

"I think I want a hot soup. I think I want gumbo."

"What is this, the bayou? You see any gumbo around here?"

"You're right. Maybe tomato. Hot tomato. Not gazpacho."

"Give me a cigarette."

"Or do I want cheddar broccoli? Like a thicker soup. I'm pretty hungry."

"It's eighty-eight degrees out."

"It'll make me sweat. The body's own cooling system."

"Jesus Christ. _Are we there yet?_ "

"Nope. Nother…hour-and-forty-five minutes."

"Lord, please take me now."

Edward grew very quiet. He cocked his head speculatively. "Corn chowder…"

Edward got his corn chowder, which he was beginning to regret sitting in the hot car outside a police station in what was supposedly Portland, except he didn't see any yuppies, just rows of storefronts in Russian. At last he saw Bella coming across the street with Ravon in tow.

"What took you so long?" Edward asked when she opened the driver's side door.

"Everything's like a process. I thought you could just drop off the check and go, but there are all these forms you have to fill out. And this one creepy cop staring at me the whole time."

Edward sat up. "Let me go talk to him."

"Edward. Relax."

Ravon slid into the backseat. "Ain't the man's fault you go around with them things and no bra."

"Wearing a bra is a choice."

"Fucking Feminine Mystique over here. Sup, lil chef."

"Hey, Ravon. What happened?"

"Who knew you needed a permit to import two hundred pounds of Beluga caviar?" Ravon asked.

"Where'd you get your hands on two hundred pounds of caviar?"

Ravon waved the question off. "I got my people."

Edward had never gotten much of a sense of how Ravon made his money, but he had quite a bit of influence in his and Bella's neighborhood. When Edward's bike was stolen last fall, it had taken Ravon all of a day before Julio and Miguel, the boys who'd jumped him, returned it personally.

"We didn't know you was Ravon's people," Julio said, eyes downcast. He looked like a whipped dog.

They'd been in the Robinsons' front yard, Edward goggling at the both of them, trying to take this all in. Ravon was sitting on the front porch, wearing shorts despite the chill, and smoking a cigar without a care in the world.

"You inflate them tires?" he asked the boys.

Miguel flinched and drew back. Julio swallowed and said, "Uh, y-yes, sir, Ravon, and we got a new chain for it."

"Okay, then. You can go, boys."

Julio and Miguel looked at one another. Miguel sniffled.

"We _real_ sorry," he said, now to Edward. His eyes were watery.

"We didn't know," Julio said. "We thought you were a tourist or sumthin."

"Now you know better than to think," Ravon said, and chuckled to himself. "Get on outta here, now."

They did, but not before—and Edward had thought he couldn't be more amazed—each held out their hand for him to shake. In a daze, he did so, and they hustled off, Julio pushing Miguel to walk away faster.

He now knew why Bella wasn't afraid to walk around her neighborhood alone. Anyone who touched her, who even spoke to her the wrong way, would have his balls hung out to dry alongside the laundry. How it had come about, he had no idea, but everyone knew there was only one white family down on Prospect, and they were Ravon's family too.

"So…you know a lot of Russian people?" he asked as Bella pulled out into the street.

"Ukrainian mostly, around here." Edward decided to leave it there. Ravon stretched out along the backseat and grunted. "Damn, you couldn't bring a brother a pillow?"

"Didn't really plan on a road trip today," Bella said, lighting up a cigarette.

"I _planned_ to be back three days ago. You know what it's like sleeping in a holding cell? I ain't even got a charge on my phone. Musta left it running. All I know is, Alexei's gonna be pissed."

"Who's Alexei?" Bella asked. "Edward, are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna get us to 5?"

"Man who ain't got no caviar," Ravon said, and closed his eyes. He muttered, "This done _fucked_ up my day."

The sky was overcast, bruised blue thunderheads gathering over the dead-stop traffic on the Hawthorne Bridge. By the time they inched their way to I-5, it had begun to spit rain. Ravon was snoring, Edward was sleeping, and Bella was pissed. She hadn't even gotten a cheesesteak out of this trip. She reached for her pack of Newports and heard one cigarette rattling alone inside.

"I'm stopping for cigarettes!" she yelled, startling everyone in the car, and swung over to the exit lane.

"Damn, girl!" Ravon said. "You don't wake a man when he's sleeping!"

"What's going on?" Edward asked, rubbing his eyes. "Where are we?"

"Still Oregon," Bella said venomously.

"Oh!" Ravon sat up. "Hey, do me a solid and drop me off in Vancouver?"

" _What?_ "

"Yeah, I got a previous obligation." He thought a moment. "Matter of fact, I was supposed to be there yesterday. Well, shit, my ass in the doghouse."

"You're making me go out of my way after I picked you up in _Portland_ , for a _bitch?_ "

"Yeah, but see, she _my_ bitch." He smiled broadly. "You see, she studying to be a nurse. Gotta admire that kind of ambition. Damn if she ain't gonna chew my ass up when I get there, though." He sighed. "Someone's eating pussy tonight."

Edward's face grew thoughtful. "I actually quite like it."

"Edward!"

"What? I really do."

"Find a gas station and shut the fuck up."

"Hey," Ravon said, "You ever eat as much stank pussy as I have, you'll understand."

"Ew," Edward said.

"Well, I hope you never do. And you up there, missy, you got a boy who like eatin pussy, you better let him run his mouth as long as he want. So to speak."

So they did drop off Ravon, in a neighborhood that made theirs in Seattle look like the Upper East Side of Manhattan, and then obligations met, backseat full of cigarettes, finally headed home. Or started to, until, just past Centralia, a great grinding sound developed whenever Bella hit the brakes.

"Oh, for the _love of God!_ We were almost there!"

"Must be the brake pads."

"Does that mean we can't drive it?"

"Not unless you want to wind up in someone else's backseat."

Bella hunched forward, leaning her head against the wheel. "Just find an exit. Okay? Find the nearest place for us to get this piece of shit fixed."

"I got it," Edward said, already working his phone. "Don't worry, it's gonna be okay."

They managed to make it to an auto body shop which was already closed. It was eight o'clock. The rain had followed them north and was picking up speed. Bella sat behind the wheel, staring into the darkened garage and shaking her head. Edward tentatively reached out and patted her shoulder.

"What? I'm fine."

"No, you're not fine. But it'll be fine. We'll come back tomorrow and get everything taken care of."

"All. I wanted. Was to watch the fucking Mariners. With a six pack. And dinner. That you would make me. And then sex. And then sleep. That was the day I had planned."

"I saw a hotel back about a mile or so," Edward said hopefully. "We could still do…some of that?"

George, the night concierge at the Pompidou Hotel in Chehalis, was expecting a slow shift. The rain had turned ugly, the wind sending sheets of it smacking against the front windows, and there hadn't been any walk-ins for almost an hour. He busied himself as best he could, brushing the polished granite desk free of lint. Brandon texted him at quarter-past-eight, asking if he'd be getting out early and telling him to be careful coming home in the storm, and he texted back: _Honey, you're sweet, but I'm here until two even if the world ends._

"Oh, my!" he exclaimed upon looking up and seeing the girl and the teenage boy come in through the lobby door, soaked to the bone and dripping onto the carpet. He mentally made a note to call a porter up to dry it once they'd been checked in. "Storm's really turning nasty, I guess."

The girl came up to the desk, her expression never changing from dull misery. Her hair hung in a limp rag of a ponytail down one shoulder, and her shirt was plastered against her. George thought, _My, she's really got a pair of boobies, doesn't she?_

"Yes," the girl said, her voice deep and deadly. "It is."

"Well!" George clasped his hands together daintily. "Assuming you both will be staying with us tonight, you'll find fresh robes in your room, and you can bundle up just as snug as a bug in a rug."

"Great," the girl said.

"Do you have food?" the boy asked hopefully.

The girl glared at him, then looked back at George. "My brother's hungry."

"Well!" George clapped his hands, springing into action. "You are in luck! We have our world-renowned restaurant Taste de Marseille just down the hall to your right, and, let me tell you, the food. Is. _Fabulous._ " He tapped the edge of the desk for emphasis. "Order whatever you want and you won't be disappointed, but if you really want a treat, try the rabbit cassoulet." He put the back of one hand against his face, as if he had a great secret to impart. "It's off menu. Just tell them George sent you," and winked.

"Thanks!" the boy said, and looked at the girl hopefully.

"Can we get a room," the girl said.

"Well, of course!" George said, unfazed. "Unfortunately, we don't have any singles available tonight, but I can put you in one of our gorgeous doubles."

"English, please?"

"A double means two beds," the boy said.

"Right you are!" George said, impressed.

"Fine. Can we have two queens?" the girl asked.

"Honey, you and me are speaking the same language," George said with a laugh. The girl looked unimpressed. George cleared his throat, tapped at his computer, and said, more formally, "I think we can accommodate you just fine tonight, miss. You and your brother will be well taken care of, and if you'd like us to put those wet clothes in the dryer for you, we can have them up just as toasty as can be in about an hour."

"What do you want me to wear to dinner?" the girl asked. "My robe?"

"Well…" George's smile was starting to feel tight.

"Could we maybe just check in and get a bite to eat first, and then we'll call down for the dryer service, please?" the boy asked. He glanced at George's lapel. "George? Uh, sir?"

"You can wait," the girl said. "I'm gonna get a yeast infection if I don't get out of these clothes."

"Well! Shall I take that to mean you'll be our guests this evening?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," the girl said, and slapped a credit card down on the desk.

George checked them in, arranged for the dryer service, and directed them to the elevator, adding as they were walking off, "Bienvenue à la Pompidou!"

AN/IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ! We have loved being able to post at such a pace, but we are coming to the end of our pre-written work. We are two adults who work full-time jobs and we'll only continue this story if we know people are reading. The best way to show us that is to review. Please do! It will make a great difference in us continuing at any strict pace. Special shout out to Oopsadaze who has been there for us all the way through. Don't think we forgot you. :)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

The restaurant was the nicest Edward or Bella had ever been to, all oak paneling and black leather booths. The waiter arrived and draped a fine red cloth napkin onto Bella's lap, to which Bella's brow crinkled. Edward was sitting on the edge of his seat, beaming eagerly, when the waiter handed him the menu. In the background, gentle accordion music filled the room, meant to conjure up long evening meals by the banks of the Seine under the glow of the Eiffel Tower.

"Can I get a beer?" Bella asked. She looked around in vain for a TV somewhere above the bar. "And is there some way we can get the Mariners game on?"

"Unfortunately, miss, we don't have televisions in the establishment." The waiter hesitated. "Also, I believe the Mariners game ended a half-hour ago. 5-3, Marlins."

Edward flinched. Bella muttered, "Motherf…well, how about that beer?"

"We have a lovely Belgian white ale and a porter from a brewery in the Harz Mountains."

"Bud?"

"Unfortunately, no, miss."

"Bud _Light?_ "

"We don't carry domestics."

"Why don't you just get a glass of wine?" Edward suggested.

Bella sighed and shrugged. "Why not. I'll have that."

"Of course, I have our wine list for you here."

He set down a multi-page booklet bound in leather that was roughly half-an-inch thick. Bella sighed again, rolled her eyes, and started to leaf through it.

"Jesus, this thing is like a phone book. Why is every glass at least twenty bucks?"

"Um…"

"I'll just get this one." She jabbed her finger down seemingly at random.

The waiter looked down where she was pointing, visibly relieved. "The California merlot, very good choice. And for the sir?"

Edward snatched up the wine list and skimmed it quickly. "The 2011 shiraz from Portugal, please."

The waiter's mouth opened, trying to form a sentence.

"Just get a Coke," Bella said.

Clarity came to Edward. He reluctantly pushed the wine list away. "Oh. Uh…sure. One Coke."

"Very good. I'll have bread out for you in a moment and be back with your drinks."

The waiter scratched the back of his head and disappeared. Edward already had his nose in the menu when he returned with their bread and drinks. Bella snatched up her wine glass in one hand and downed it with a swig. The waiter watched her with a strained smile.

Bella held out the now-empty glass. "Another. Please."

"…Very good, then," he said, and was gone.

"Ooh! I've never had escargot before. Always wanted to try it."

Bella had torn off a large hunk of bread and was chewing, mouth open. "What the hell's that?"

"It's snails, Bella. It's a very traditional delicacy in France."

Bella's lip curled in disgust. "Ew. You wanted to try it so bad why didn't you just go in my backyard?"

"They're not those kind of snails, Bella."

"Whatever…get the snails, get the worms, get whatever you want, just don't make me watch you eat it or I'm gonna puke all over the table."

The waiter came back with Bella's wine. She hadn't yet opened the menu, was already tearing apart a second piece of bread.

"I gotta say, this bread is pretty bangin."

"Yes…have you decided on what you'd like to order?"

"Steak," Bella said.

"Okay…we have a lovely filet, or a wet-aged ribeye, or the sirloin with a demi-glace…"

"Just… _steak_."

"Why don't you just get the filet," Edward said, eyes bright, looking up from where he'd been studying the steaks. "You'll like it, it's Wagu beef."

" _What?_ "

"Wagu beef. Just trust me."

"Fine, whatever," Bella said, handing over her menu. "I'll get the wacko beef."

The waiter cleared his throat. "Yes, miss. How would you like that cooked?"

"Medium-rare."

Edward nodded and smiled proudly.

"Very good." The waiter looked relieved that at least one thing had been simple. "And for the young gentleman?"

"I'll start with a cup of consommé—"

"Make that two," Bella stuck a finger up, knowing Edward be ordering half the appetizers on the menu and she'd be kept waiting an hour for her steak if she didn't chime in.

"—and the escargot, you can bring those along with the soup, and then for the entrée, I'll have—oh, actually, I'll start with the roasted beet salad too—but then for the entrée, I'll take the rabbit cassoulet." He leaned in toward the waiter, grinning. "George sent me!"

The waiter smiled in spite of himself. "Yes, sir." To Bella, "Your son's a bright young man."

Bella coughed through her wine. Edward bit back his own smile.

"Mom, are you okay?"

She set down her wine glass, empty. "Another," she said to the waiter, glaring at Edward.

The waiter, not quite understanding what was happening, only that he wanted to spend as little time at this table as possible and now thinking he might have offended her by confusing brother with son, whisked the glass away with a curt nod.

An hour-and-a-half later, Edward pushed away the bowl of cassoulet, bones picked clean, a half-dozen bites left regretfully uneaten.

"I'm stuffed!" he exclaimed, rubbing his stomach and leaning back in the booth.

"Metoo," Bella said, lifting her head a little from where it had been drooping.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm greaaaat!" Bella said, loud enough that three or four heads turned their way. Her head drooped again. She'd kept the wine flowing freely throughout dinner. She was a lightweight, always practicing not to follow in her mom's footsteps, and after what Edward guessed was roughly two bottles of merlot, she was on the verge of falling asleep in her palm.

"We should get the check," Edward said.

"Tellem sennit to Ravon," Bella said. Her eyes had closed. "But one more first."

"Bella, I think you've had enough."

Edward had never seen her like this. Sometimes a little more bubbly than usual, but never three sheets to the wind.

"You're…child." She leaned back, dangerously wobbling to one side, and cocked both thumbs back at herself. " _I'm_ a…dult."

"Yes, you are, but still."

The waiter reluctantly appeared. "Will there be anything else…?"

"Send a bottle of champagne to my room!" Bella cried.

"…Yes…miss."

"Can we get the check, please?"

"It'll appear on your bill when you check out, sir. Just please sign here."

He produced an authorization sheet in a leather booklet and a ballpoint pen.

"Gimme that," Bella said, and snatched the pen from where the waiter had been holding it toward Edward. He pulled his hand back quickly, as if she'd tried to bite it. She made some nonsensical patterns on the dotted line and pointed a wavering finger in the waiter's direction. "Yer lucky I buss my ass, or I wouln't tip you _shit!_ " She bobbed toward Edward. "And you. Givva man a hunnert dollars. He's a goog guy."

"Let's go upstairs, Bella."

"Wai, wai, gimme my chammpain."

"Room service will bring it up for you shortly, miss."

"Okay, a'll wai here."

She set her head back down in her palm and let her eyes flutter closed. Edward was on his feet at once, tugging gently at her arm.

"Come on, baby, let's go upstairs."

The waiter's eyes widened.

"Babeh, I cann walk."

"Yes, you can. Come on, lean on me, I'll walk with you."

Edward realized he hadn't left a tip, hastily scrawled down a hundred dollars, considering that it was Ravon's money, and coaxed Bella up from the booth and out to the lobby, her head sinking onto his shoulder as she twined her hands through his hair, now grown long enough that she could loop her fingers around it. The waiter watched them go the whole way, watched until the elevator came and the boy kissed her cheek and brushed her hair out of her face, then led her inside. The doors closed, and the waiter shuddered. He didn't know all of what he'd seen, but he knew enough not to want to know more. He took the authorization sheet from the table, pinching it between two fingers like it was something dirty, and took it into the back.

The manager looked up when he came in, looked away, then back, scrutinizing him. "You look like you've seen a ghost." In a lower voice: "They finally gone?"

"Yeah. Yeah. They're gone."

"Lemme guess, they left you maybe twenty bucks?"

The waiter hadn't checked. He did now, but was still so in shock that it hardly registered. "Hundred," he said matter-of-factly.

"Oh! Shit. Good night for you."

"How long you been in this business?"

"Here? Six years. Five at La Fortuna over at the Marriott before that. Why?"

"You ever see some shit you couldn't unsee?"

The manager looked thoughtful. "I have a personal policy. As long as no one's getting hurt, no one needs to go sticking their nose into other people's business."

"And how do you if someone's getting hurt?"

The manager took a step closer to him. "Hey. Tom. There something I need to know about?"

Now it was Tom's turn to think. He did so, long and hard. He wasn't sure what decided him. Maybe the way he'd eased the loose strands of hair out of her face, as if he was the older one, or maybe it was no one thing, just a sense Tom had. When he finally spoke, though, all he said was, "No, nothing. Just a long day."

AN/Thank you to all who reviewed! Keep them coming and we will do the same!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

Edward and Bella were finally rounding the last block onto Prospect. It had been three days since Angelique had come hustling Bella out of bed to bail out Ravon. Bella hadn't said a word in the last hour; her scowl said everything for her. Edward too was tired, but he had never had three straight days with Bella, and the thought of coming back to reality made him feel glum. At least they'd have tonight together. He'd told his mom he would be back from the lake house Billy's dad had rented upstate the next morning. She hadn't been pleased when he told her the sudden overnight trip would be stretched out to three days, and that made him nervous.

"I wouldn't mind if you'd told me in advance," she'd said on the phone.

"Just slipped my mind," he said.

"Is Mrs. Tanush there? I know you're in safe hands, but I like to be able to count on when you're here."

"Everyone's down at the water, mom. Don't make me look like a little kid, please? I'll be home early Thursday morning."

"All right, all right. I just want to be sure that next time—"

"Next time I'll make sure you know everything ahead of time. Promise. I just got carried away, it's so nice up here."

"I'm going to hold you to that. And if you're hanging out with Billy one day this week, I expect him to come here for dinner. I don't want you overstaying your welcome."

"I'll let him know."

As they finally pulled into the Robinsons' driveway, Bella spotted Ravon on the porch with some anonymous broad with her head in a textbook.

"That must be the nurse," Edward said.

"Hope she knows how to stitch up an asshole, because that's where my foot's about to go."

"Bella…" Edward began, but she had already pushed her door open and was striding up the lawn. He scrambled out of the car and jogged after her.

"Heyyy," Ravon said, tilting his sunglasses down. "The Lost Boys return. You decide to make a vacation out of it?"

Bella slapped her credit card down on the plastic table beside him along with a receipt from the service station.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing down.

"For the new brake pads," she said icily. "You know. Since the old ones crapped out in the middle of _nowhere_."

Ravon's eyebrows went up. "Oh," he said. "I thought my ass was in the doghouse before, you look ready to kill."

"I want every penny of this credit card paid off by tomorrow," she said, leaning over so her face was only inches from Ravon's. "Is that clear?"

"You know, it's too bad you're so straight-edge. You pretty intimidating when you want to be. I could use someone like you."

"Did you hear me?"

"Aight, aight, it's good, don't worry." He scanned the receipt again and chuckled. "I told Angelique once, I told her a thousand times, you gotta look after your ride or something like this gonna happen. Too bad it was you. She mighta actually learned something."

"Paid. In. Full," she said, and whirled away, tearing down the steps and grabbing Edward's hand.

"Bye, Ravon!" Edward called over his shoulder as Bella yanked him toward her house. And, to the girl, "And nice meeting you, good luck with your nursing degree!"

"Bye, lil chef!" Ravon called back, chuckling.

"Thank you, honey!" the girl called. "I think I'm really getting catheters down!"

Edward was happy to see his bike was still secured to the gate in front of Bella's house, safely under the aura of Ravon's authority. He got no more than a glimpse, though, before Bella pulled him inside and up the splintered wooden steps, grabbing the rusted metal handrail and vaulting them onto the porch. Then she stopped, so suddenly that Edward bumped right into her back, muttering a quick apology.

"You gotta be shitting me," she said. Edward turned his head toward the cracked plastic beach chair to the side of the porch, never used, so that he had forgotten it was even there. Sitting innocently on one of the armrests was a half-empty bottle of Bud. Four more were littered beneath the chair, some on their sides.

He looked at Bella, confused, then concerned. "Was someone here?"

The expression on the older girl's face gave him pause. Suddenly she didn't look older at all. He watched her expression change from anger to sadness, almost missing the second one as it turned to something he had never dreamed was in her: defeat.

"She'd better be gone," she said, speaking to herself, so low he almost couldn't make it out.

She regained some sense of herself, remembering he was still there and putting the armor back up.

"It's gonna be a long night," she said without looking at him. "If you want to head home now, it's okay. I'm sure you can think of something to tell your mom."

"Bella. What's going on?" he asked, watching her warily.

"If you want to stay, you have to help. Okay? I don't know if you'd want to do that."

"I can help. Just tell me what's going on."

"You'll see for yourself. Come on. Let's get this over with."

The house was empty. Bella seemed so relieved by this that at first she didn't even seem to mind that it had been trashed. There were more beer bottles in here, cases worth, all over the kitchen counter, the table, clustered on the floor, interspersed with the odd bottle of Nikolai vodka. The house reeked of pot, drawing up memories of the time his mom had gone to a conference with two of the partners at her law firm and Emmett had gone wild. Even Emmett knew enough to clean up, but the smell lingered. And it was _hot_.

Bella went to the stove, her expression darkening. "Stupid bitch." The oven was on; Bella snapped it off so hard Edward expected the dial to break off in her hand. Sitting on the stove with only a few bites missing was some kind of casserole that might once have been edible, though Edward doubted it. It was a mass of noodles, tomato sauce, vegetables—canned ones, he thought—and grey ground meat, all crusted and dried and scorched around the edges.

"Guess she made her world famous drunk lasagna," Bella said ruefully. She reached for the casserole dish, then snatched her hand back with a hiss.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, going to her.

She shook her head and uttered a bitter little laugh. "Stupid," she said. "It's hot from sitting on top of the oven."

"Let me see."

"Edward, I'm fine."

Her hand might have been, but Bella clearly was not fine. She went to the sink, which was piled high with dishes, and before she turned away, he thought he could see her shaking a little.

"Looks like she had quite the party," Bella said.

"Who? Are you talking about your mom? Your mom did all this?"

"Her and her friends. She couldn't do all this on her own. Not in three days, anyway."

There was a low, insistent, steady meowing coming from down the hall. Bella hurried toward it. Edward saw the cat's dish was still piled high with the food they'd left.

"Baby," Bella said from down the hall. "Baby, I'm coming, it's okay."

The bedroom door opened, the meowing growing louder.

"Oh, baby, baby, come here," Bella said. "Come here, I'm so sorry, it's okay."

She came back to the kitchen, holding Ariel, nuzzling her face into the big ugly ball. There were tears in her eyes, and Edward thought he might die.

"She just shut her up," Bella said, and sniffled. "She just locked her away for, I don't know, two, three days? No food, no water, no litter box. That _bitch_."

Her voice broke on the last word, and finally the sobs came out. Edward went to her and enfolded her in his arms, not even minding the mutant cat sandwiched between them, soothing her as best he could. Tears still streaming down her cheeks, she set Ariel down to eat. The cat waddled to her dishes, lapped water, and began devouring her food in huge mouthfuls. For once, this didn't fill Edward with disgust, only pity. He had taken Bella's hand, and they stood there for a minute, watching the cat together in silence. Nothing needed to be said. Their safe place had been broken, but Edward wouldn't leave until he had helped Bella pick up the pieces. Finally he kissed her on the cheek, still damp with tears, gave her hand a squeeze, and went to start collecting bottles.

He decided while he was taking his morning piss that he was going to try Bella's again today. With the bathroom full of morning sunbeams and his head clear for the first time in what felt like years, everything seemed possible. He squeezed out the last few drops, flushed, and strode out to the kitchen naked. His mother was off hustling at one of her jobs, his brother was out doing whatever he did with his lazy ass, and the house was his. He felt good. Truly good, in a way he would never have thought possible two days ago, the last time he'd been to Bella's. He didn't relish the thought of making that trip down to Prospect again, but he would do it. She was worth it.

He poured himself a bowl of corn flakes, covered them in sugar, and ate, trying to picture how it would be, like something out of a movie. Did she miss him? She had to by now, even with her hard head, even if she didn't really realize it. They had been together three years, he'd been her first, her only, and she…well, there hadn't been many others, before or since, however much he played up his conquests around the guys, and there had been none like Bella. She was fiery, she was beautiful, there was that, but she also made him feel like nothing else in the world mattered more than him. She used to, at least. That had been the problem before they'd taken this long break. For a while, even with the rest of the world spreading its legs to take daily shits on Emmett's shoulders, Bella made him feel special. And then, one day, she didn't. Maybe he had taken her for granted. Too many nights on the couch with his friends, too many requests for her to fetch him another beer, not enough thanks. Then, there was Veronica, and _she_ had become the one who looked at him that way, with that worshipfulness that had long since dulled and died out in Bella's eyes, and what was he supposed to do? He was only human.

He decided he would go over around eleven. _She_ would probably be semi-human by then.

He took a long shower, washed his hair for the first time in weeks, shaved, brushed his teeth. Inspiration struck, and he went fishing in his bedroom drawer for the bottle of cologne she'd saved up to buy him on his eighteenth birthday. He dabbed it liberally around his neck, inhaled deeply, feeling for once like a man, not some overgrown drunken kid. Flowers! He should bring her flowers, the yellow roses she liked. He checked his wallet. Well. Maybe one flower.

At eleven-thirty, he turned onto Bella's block, single yellow rose in hand, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. He wished Bella didn't live in such a shithole. If he was worried about being jumped in the middle of a bright summer morning, how did she feel coming home at midnight? That was the reason she'd always come to his house, so he'd know she was safe. And because he was secretly terrified of coming into this part of town after dark.

He was glad to see all the cars were gone. He didn't know what had possessed her to have a party the other night. She'd always been more of a loner. He didn't think she even knew more than a few people. In high school everyone knew Bella Swan, and almost all of them were too scared to talk to her. She had maybe five friends, not including that loud-mouthed bitch Angelique, who always looked at Emmett like he was something she'd scraped off her shoe.

"You know, no wonder everyone's intimidated by you," he'd said once during one of their drunken two a.m. fights. "You go around sticking your nose up like you're better than everyone. And you keep people like fucking Angelique around. Everyone knows her brother, and there's a reason no one hangs out with her."

That landed him a smack in the face. They'd yelled it out, then cried it out, then fucked it out, and afterwards, every time he got the smart idea to talk shit about the Robinsons, he bit his tongue. He knew they were like family to her. He just had no idea why.

Maybe she'd changed. He definitely had. And it had been long enough, too long.

"Scuse me, son, are you lost?"

The voice floated out of the yard adjacent to Bella's house, and so intent had Emmett been on what was coming that it made him jump. He looked over, and the first thought that shot through his head was: _Oh, fucking great, I'm down on Prospect and now there's a big black guy talking to me._

The man in question was bent down in the front yard, sweat pouring down his bald head, dark T-shirt plastered to his huge belly. He looked like a Rottweiler…but not, Emmett was happy to see, an angry one, at least not yet.

"Uh, no, not lost, just going to see my friend," Emmett said, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"Bella'll be asleep till at least noon, 'less she's working the lunch shift," the man said. He got up, dusted the dirt off his jeans, and shit, now he was coming over to the fence.

"It's okay, she's expecting me," Emmett said, doing his best to find his happy thoughts.

The man stopped suddenly. Emmett was on his guard for whatever was coming next, but the man only closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun, breathing deeply.

"Heaven," he said, and looked back at Emmett, beaming. Emmett cautiously smiled back. "Isn't it just the finest day in creation?"

"Yyyes…it sure is." Emmett's eyes flicked toward Bella's house.

"Well, look at that," the man said, and came the rest of the way to the fence. Emmett's eyes darted back towards him.

"Huh?"

"Rosa hemisphaerica. Isn't that nice."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, nice talking to you."

"I'm working on developing a green thumb myself presently." The man gestured toward where he'd been kneeling in the dirt. "That's gonna be parsley right there, and then cilantro, maybe two plants—I do love my cilantro—and prob'ly some rosemary, and then I was thinking some thyme, but maybe not. My sister can't abide thyme."

"Shug, who the fuck you talking to!" came an all-too-familiar banshee screech from inside the screen door. He'd known they lived close, but next door? Emmett's stomach clenched an instant before the bitch came striding out onto the porch.

"Dunno, but he got a flower. Let me ask you, what are your thoughts on mint?"

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking up strange men?"

"Just being neighborly."

"Well, keep your neighborly chatter for the goddamn neighbors!"

She was squinting out at them through the sun, one hand shading her eyes, and Emmett thought he was going to be able to get out of this without being recognized.

"Anyway, nice talking to you, gotta run," he told the man, and turned to go.

"Hey, hold up now!" Angelique called, and Emmett froze. When he looked back she was coming towards them, gliding like a snake, eyes filled with the old contempt, smirking sourly. "Well, well, well, if it ain't old Gilded Balls Gibson. Almost didn't recognize you. Maybe time to start laying off them donuts, don't you think?"

"Angelique," he said. "You're…here."

"Didn't think I needed your permission to come in my own fucking yard, but thanks."

The other man pointed at him. "Look at that. Rosa hemisphaerica."

"Shug, go on back and play in the dirt some more." The man nodded amiably at Emmett and plodded off to do just that, and Angelique sidled right up to the fence, arms folded tightly. "Now, what would you be doing down on Prospect with a flower, and looking so dapper? Wouldn't be having any thoughts about catching up on old times, would you?"

"Come on, Angelique. I just want to talk to her."

A secret smile bloomed on her lips.

"Well, isn't that nice. You came all the way down here smelling like Calvin Klein's toilet water just to talk. You go right on ahead. I ain't gonna stop you."

"Okay…" Emmett said. She just kept smiling at him like the wolf in grandma's clothing, and he was beginning to feel really, really uncomfortable.

"Go on, now. You want me to walk you?"

"Nooo…thanks."

"You sure? I can make popcorn."

"Uh…I'm good."

Now she actually leaned forward onto the fence, resting her elbows between two of the posts and her chin on top of her palms, and then, as if it couldn't get any weirder, she batted her eyes at him.

"You have yourself a nice chat, now."

"…Okay, bye," he said, walking off double-time, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder to make sure a knife wasn't about to land in his back.

" _What the fuck is that,_ " Bella groaned.

Edward rubbed his eyes, hair standing up all over his head as he pulled it up from the pillow, sleep-mumbling, "Is someone knocking?"

"They'd better fucking hope not."

"Bella!" came a deep male voice through the open window from the direction of the porch.

"Is that…?" Bella asked.

" _Emmett?_ " Edward asked.

He sat bolt upright in bed, every trace of sleep evaporated.

Bella was staring in the direction of the front door, mouth open. "The _fuck?_ "

The knocking resumed, louder and more insistent. "Bella, please, I just want to talk, okay?"

Bella looked at Edward. Edward looked at Bella.

"Don't answer it!" Edward said.

"He's not just going to go away! He does shit like this."

"Well, not anymore!" Edward threw the bedclothes off and launched himself out of bed.

"Edward! Don't be a dingbat. You're not going out there."

"I'll just go talk to him—"

"You're not _here_ , remember?"

"I'll say you were tutoring me."

"At eleven in the morning, in summer?"

"Yeah…"

"Come on, come over here, just…sit. Stay."

"We'll call Ravon. Say there's a suspicious character at the door."

"We don't want him dead, we just want him gone!"

Edward considered this point thoroughly.

"Hey," she said, leaning over and kissing him, touching her hands to his cheeks. "I'll be right back. I don't know what your dumb ass is imagining is about to happen, but I'll take care of this and I'll be right back."

"…You promise?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. Just wait here." She kissed him again. "I love you."

"…You do?"

"Yeah, stupid. I tell you that all the time."

"Uh…no, I actually don't think you ever have."

"Oh, come on, you say it when we have sex, and I say it back."

"Yeah, but that's, like…sex talk."

"Saying I love you? Are you…whatever. I love you. Stay here, and shut up."

She shut the door on him looking like a puppy being locked in its crate and threw on the robe she had draped over the couch. From the bedroom, Edward called, "You're putting clothes on, right?"

"Oh, fucking…ssh!" She hurried to the bedroom door. "No, Edward, I'm going out butt naked to show him everything he's been missing."

" _What?_ "

"I'm kidding!" she hissed. "Now, shut up!"

Outside, the knocking continued, and Emmett said, "Bella, I know you're in there, I can hear you moving around. Can you please just open the door?"

She sighed and belted the bathrobe more tightly, then went out into the kitchen. "Fine. Come in if you're coming in."

The knob turned. Slowly, the door creaked open, and there was Emmett's face for the first time in almost a year, looking the same but different. It was rounder, puffier, but that was only part of it. Or maybe she was just different.

"Hey," he said, and grinned. "Wow. You look amazing."

"Okay."

He came all the way in now, shutting the door behind him, remarking, "You really leave this unlocked all night? Isn't that dangerous?"

"Nope."

"Okay. I just mean, in this neighborhood—"

"Somehow I get by without you around to protect me."

"Okay. Sorry."

It wasn't like a movie at all. Somehow she didn't seem overjoyed to see him. He had the uneasy sense that he was going to have to work for this. But he could do that. Just laying eyes on her after so much time made his legs feel like rubber. She was gorgeous, impossibly gorgeous, with her blue eyes and platinum blonde hair, skin so white it looked like she had been carved from some precious stone. And, he noted, gaze following down the robe, those legs…there was a glow about her, even now, roused out of a sound sleep. She looked happy. She was putting on a show for him, pretending to be cold, but underneath, she must miss him.

"I got you this," he said, extending the rose.

In the bedroom, Edward listened with his ear pressed up against the door as Bella said, "What am I going to do with that?"

"Come on, Bella. Just take the flower."

"Fine. Great. Thanks for the flower."

 _A flower?_ Edward thought. Unconsciously his hands balled into fists. Emmett's abs had softened to gut, but he still had seven years, eight inches, and probably fifty pounds on Edward. If he wanted, Emmett could tear his balls clean off…but Edward would fight him with every ounce of strength in him to protect what he had with Bella, would fight until one of them was in a coma, and the way he felt now, he wouldn't necessarily have put the odds in Emmett's favor.

"So, what brings you here?" Bella said, turning the faucet on, probably to put the flower in water. "Just in the neighborhood?"

"I came to see you."

"Okay…why?"

"Because I don't know how I ever let something so amazing go."

"Emmett. It's been a year. You cheated on me. And I've moved on."

"Moved on? But your Facebook profile says you're single."

"What? I don't go on fucking Facebook. Jesus, how old are you?"

Edward pressed his mouth into his elbow and snickered as silently as he could.

"So…how long have you…been moved on?"

"A little under a year."

"This _whole time?_ "

"Yes, Emmett. When I found out you cheated on me, I realized it had been over for a really long time."

"How did you even find out anyway?"

"What kind of dumbass question is that? _That's_ what you want to know now? This is why we never could have worked."

"Okay, okay, but you need to know, it never meant anything to me."

"Well, it meant something to me. I'm sorry, this is not something I want to talk about. It's all in the past."

"If you hate me so much, why the hell are you tutoring Edward? I thought you were just doing that to get back with me."

"Edward, unlike you, is a bright, responsible, respectful young man. Your mom said he needed some extra help, so we met up at the grocery store, we got to talking, and he asked me if I'd help him in math and science."

"But Bella…you suck at school."

"I, also unlike you, have tried to make an effort to better myself, and I took some classes online. If you're interested, I can give you some pointers. I may even have a pamphlet around here."

Edward was on his back now, looking up at the ceiling with the widest shit-eating grin he'd ever worn, arms splayed out, reveling in every word he heard.

"So, you got your GED?"

"Yes," she lied. "Yes, I did."

"Well…good for you, I guess. So why are you still working at the diner, then?"

"I make good money there. And I'm also tutoring on the side, not just Edward. Your mom is an excellent reference."

"Maybe I made a mistake coming here."

"Maybe you did. Emmett, we had a good thing. While it lasted. You were my first love, you really were. But it was never going to last. I know that now. We were just…kids. And honestly, I think you still are. But I'm at least trying not to be."

"You always had this attitude like you were better than everyone else."

"Here we go."

"It's true. Even when you liked going to parties, you didn't like being around anyone. You just liked looking down on everyone. Well, guess what. You just grew up too fast. You're not better than anyone."

"I think you should leave."

"Look…can we at least be friends?"

"You think I take this kind of shit from my friends? And next time you wear that cologne, try not to take a bath in it."

Red-faced, furious and embarrassed, Emmett stormed out of Bella's house, slamming the door behind him. He marched across the yard and shoved through the gate, not even noticing the bike chained out front. He was crossing the street so as not to pass the Robinson house when that fucking voice called out, sickeningly sweet, "So, how'd your visit go?"

"Fuck off, Angelique."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

"Is this enough snacks for everyone?"

"Yes, Mom, I think it literally is enough snacks for everyone. In the world."

"Getting an awfully smart mouth in your old age. You know, Caddy has to leave at ten-thirty."

"Oh, God, Mom…"

"She's still a young lady."

"Is she? Is she, though?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. So, we're getting pizza, right?"

"I thought maybe we could spring for something a little more special…in the mood for sushi?"

" _Really?_ " Edward had given up on asking Bella to get sushi, which she said, "probably tastes like old pussy."

"Here's the menu from Osaka, just have everyone write down what they want when they get here."

Edward looked crestfallen. "But Osaka doesn't deliver."

"I think I can trust you guys not to burn the house down while I go pick it up."

"Aw, thanks, mom!" he cried, snatching the menu and giving her a peck on the cheek. She watched him run off to, as he'd put it, craft his order. Fourteen years old, and he was still her Edward. She must have done something right, because all the fears she'd had last fall about losing him had melted away. And in some way, she thought she had Bella to thank.

Edward was studying the menu, trying to decide between the tuna tataki or the tuna tartare with mango as an appetizer to go with his seaweed salad, when a text came through.

 _Happy birthday, brat. Have fun tonight. See you tomorrow._

He smiled and was going back to the menu when another one came through.

 _Love you. Miss you._

 _Love you too,_ he typed, debating an emoji and deciding against it.

The doorbell rang. Edward ran to the front door, calling, "I'll get it!" He'd told Billy to come a half-hour early so they'd have the chance to talk. No sooner had he opened the door than Billy burst in, pumping his arms.

"Yo, yo, yo, Billy Tush in the house, ready for some wild birthday shit to go down!"

"Language!" his mother said from the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mrs. Cullen. Here you go, Edward."

He held out what was obviously a DVD, clumsily wrapped.

"Thanks, man. Guess we're still doing the present thing?"

"You better f—freaking get me a present on my birthday."

"Language!"

"He said freaking, mom, it's not a curse."

"It means the same thing."

"Sorry, Mrs. Cullen!" Billy called. He leaned in toward Edward. "Dude, can we go in the basement?"

Downstairs, Billy watched eagerly as Edward tore off the wrapping paper and frowned at his gift.

" _Deep Blue Sea?_ I can get this on Prime."

"No, open it, man."

Edward did. Sitting in the packaging was a disc labeled _Ass Vixens 9._

"How bout that!" Billy said, grinning. "My brother got it for me!"

"Porn?"

"Yeah! Isn't it great? Porn!"

"Thanks…"

"What's wrong? It's porn!"

"I don't…what do I do with it?"

"What the fuck do you think? Now you don't have to jerk off staring at your cell phone."

"Well, thanks again, but I don't really jerk off anymore."

Billy's grin faded. "What?"

"Well, sometimes Bella does it for me, but…I don't really need to…you know, take care of things by myself anymore."

Billy's eyes narrowed. He looked at Edward for a long time. "You know, you're no fucking fun anymore."

"Boys! Takaki's here!"

"Send him down, mom!"

"Okay! You forgot your menu up here, I'll have him bring it!"

Takaki came downstairs thirty seconds later, holding up the menu and scowling.

"What is this?"

"Hey, man. Isn't it cool? We're having sushi!"

"Dude…that's pretty fucking racist."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh! Japanese boy come for dinner, must have sushi! He shit seaweed and pee miso soup!" He paused. "Actually, I could go for a nice bowl of miso soup."

"Yeah, I thought we'd get a large and all split it."

"Sounds good to me. Sup, Billy."

"Hey, man. Check it out."

" _Deep Blue Sea?_...Aw, porn! Sick!"

Billy gestured in Takaki's direction, point proven. "See?"

Caddy came a few minutes later, Army jacket shed for the summer, opting instead for camo shorts and Converse. When presented with Billy's gift, she was not as enthusiastic as Takaki. She studied it for a moment, then handed it back.

"What the hell's an ass vixen?"

Billy told her.

"Ugh. Gross. What kind of girl does that?"

Edward snickered to himself.

He opened Caddy's gift, a Stephen King DVD box set, and would have opened Takaki's, but he'd forgotten it at home and promised to bring it over the next time his mom was around to drive him. The four friends gorged themselves on sushi, except for Caddy, who opted for a bento box. When they'd eaten everything except for the last piece of yellowtail, Edward dutifully ran the empty containers up to the trash, wanting to make sure his mom wouldn't poke her nose downstairs, and then unveiled the surprise he'd been keeping cool in the drafty spot beside the washer: a twelve-pack of Natty Ice, a birthday present from Angelique. The others' eyes widened when he showed them, even Billy, and it occurred to him that he might be the only one of them who'd so much as tasted a beer before.

"Can I have one?" Billy said, reaching his hand out tentatively, as if toward something that might bite. Edward dimly remembered that feeling.

"Sure thing!" Edward said, pulling one from the box. "Have this one, man. Trust me, there's nothing like that first beer from a full rack."

"So you've done this before?" Takaki said. He looked hesitant about even being in the same room as the beers.

"Uh, yeah. Once or twice."

"I've had beer before," Caddy said matter-of-factly. They all looked at her.

"You have?" Edward asked.

"Yeah, when my dad got back from Germany last year."

"Germany?" Billy asked.

"Army, doofus?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Duh. Anyway, he said I was old enough to have my first one. Kinda surprising what shit people let you do when you're the 'good kid.'" She made air quotes with her fingers. "Pop me one, Edward."

He opened one for each of them, even Takaki, who protested at first.

"I'm not gonna get, like, drunk, am I?"

"Not off one. You're fine, man. But I'm not forcing you or anything."

"No, I'll do it."

The four gathered around on the pleather couch, touched their beers together in silent ceremony, and drank. Takaki spluttered.

"Aw, that tastes like someone's fermented asshole!"

"Come on, it's not that bad," Billy said, looking more at ease now, and took another sip.

"I mean, it's shitty beer, but it's still beer," Caddy said, and took a swig. She was splayed out a little apart from the rest of them, legs spread wide.

Takaki looked venomously at the can in his hand, took another small sip, and grimaced.

Edward looked around at them, smiling, feeling like the king of the universe. He had brought them beer. It felt in some way like he was inviting them into his world, giving them a small taste of his secret life.

"Trust me, after the first one, you barely even notice the taste," he said.

"Highly unlikely," Takaki said.

Two hours later, Takaki was fishing a fresh one out of the diminished case, cracking it open, and downing half on the spot.

"Slow down there, cowboy," Caddy said. "I'm already feeling it, and you're one ahead of me."

"I don't really know what 'it' is, but it's awesome," Takaki said.

"Just remember, that's all we got," said Edward, who was barely buzzed at the end of his second. "We gotta pace ourselves."

"Fuck that!" Takaki cried. "YOLO!"

The basement door creaked open, and everyone froze.

"Boys, I mean—kids, is everything okay?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cullen!" Caddy called. She set down her beer and went over to the stairwell. "We're just playing charades. Takaki's winning. Thank you so much for the invitation, and for the sushi. My dad's allergic to fish, so I never get a chance to have it. But it was very kind of you."

"Aww, you're so welcome, honey. You know you're welcome here anytime."

Caddy beamed up at the door. "Thanks so much."

"You all have fun, now."

"Thanks, mom," Edward said, and then, blessedly, heard the door close.

Caddy came striding back over, smirking, and sipped her beer. "You can all stop pissing yourselves, okay? At least I know how to hold it together, for God's sake." She glanced at Takaki, who was digging into the case for a fresh one. "Takaki? What beer are you on?"

"Uh…four?" Takaki said. His face had turned the shade of a fresh tomato.

"Dude!" Edward exclaimed. "There were supposed to be three for each of us!"

"Well," Takaki said. He took a sip as if to claim his territory and then pointed at the beer in his hand. "This is the last one."

"Whoa!" Billy cried. "I haven't even finished my second!"

"Oops."

"Can we actually do something?" Caddy asked. "We're just sitting around while Takaki gets shit-faced."

"I am _not_ shit-faced," Takaki said, pointing a finger in her direction and nearly toppling over. "I am just…very drunk."

"How about Truth or Dare?" Billy asked.

"I'll goo first!" Takaki said.

"It's Edward's birthday, let him go," Caddy said.

"Isn't this a little childish?" Edward asked.

"Remember when I said you weren't any fucking fun anymore?" Billy said.

"Fine, fine, I'll play. Billy, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Okay…I dare you…to…lick Takaki's glasses. While they're on his face."

"I…what? No!"

"Them's the rules, man."

"Ugh. Come on, man. That's…fuck you."

Caddy laughed and clapped her hands while Billy pushed himself to his feet and shuffled toward Takaki, gingerly sticking his tongue out.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Takaki asked.

"Just shut up, you're making it harder," Billy said.

"Make 'em shine," Edward said.

"Eegh," Billy said, tongue out again. With sudden resolution, he leaned forward, touching his tongue to the glass over Takaki's right eye. Edward and Caddy exploded with laughter, Edward rolling off the couch and pounding the carpet gleefully.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you guys," Billy said, slinking back to the couch.

Caddy wiped her eyes. "Oh man…Billy, was that your first kiss?"

" _What?_ No. Ashley Thomson. And that was not a kiss!"

"I never knew I was such a cheap date," Takaki said, wiping his glasses with a Kleenex.

"All right, Billy, it's your turn," Caddy said.

"Fine. Edward, truth or dare."

"Knew this was coming. Dare. Takaki, pucker up."

"Okay," Billy said. A mischievous grin blossomed on his lips. "I dare you…to make out with Caddy."

Edward glared at him. "Dude."

Billy's grin widened. "Them's the rules."

Edward's heart sank. He looked at Caddy, who was blushing and doing her best to hide it. He wished she would say something, protest, curse Billy out with a laugh and put an end to this, but she didn't.

"I can't," Edward said.

"Just do it!" Takaki said. "It's not a big deal."

But it was to Edward, and would be an even bigger deal to Bella, who was busting her ass doing a double right now so they could have the entire weekend together. This stupid game he didn't even want to play in the first place was going to make him hurt Caddy's feelings for no reason, and Billy had known he would have to…unless he was so jealous of what Edward had with Bella that he wanted to spoil it in some way. Whatever the reason, Edward wanted to go over and shake him. No, to haul him up, pull him into the other room, shove him hard against the wall, and ask him what the fuck he'd been thinking.

Instead he swallowed, looked Billy in the eye, and said evenly, "Caddy's the only girl here. This isn't fair to her, or to me, and I'm not doing it. Okay?"

Billy's grin had faded, better judgment coming into play. He dropped his eyes. He was slightly jealous, and he'd shown it. He would kill for Edward if need be. Edward was his brother, and he, Billy, had just taken a left-handed swing at his heart.

"Sure, man," he said. "No big deal. You're right."

There was a moment of silence.

"Wow," Takaki said. "Thanks for that, Captain Buzzkill."

The basement door opened. Edward's mom called, "Kids, Caddy's mom is here!"

"Coming right up, Mrs. Cullen!" Caddy called back. She checked her watch and rolled her eyes. "Right on time. Guess I'll smell you kids later."

"Hey, I'll walk you up," Edward said.

Caddy looked surprised and grateful. "Sure."

They walked upstairs, Edward stepping aside so Caddy could go ahead of him on the steps. They passed Edward's mom, who was waiting at the basement door.

"Thank you so much for having me, Mrs. Cullen," Caddy said. "I had a wonderful time."

"Oh, like I said, honey, you're always welcome."

"I'm just gonna walk Caddy out, okay, mom?"

Edward's mom beamed. "Such a little gentleman." She squeezed his cheek between two fingers even as he flinched away.

"Mom!"

"All right, all right, I'm going. Didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friend."

But she was still smiling at him knowingly, and there had been just a hint of hesitation before her last word. The last thing he needed was his mom trying to play matchmaker, and he walked on toward the front door.

Outside, in the glow of headlights thrown by her mother's Subaru, Caddy said, "Thank you, Edward."

"Yeah, no problem."

She touched his hand, and he almost jumped. She was looking at him earnestly, uncomfortably so. "I meant for that downstairs. I didn't want my first kiss to be on a dare anyway."

"Oh. Yeah, I mean…I didn't think so. You know it didn't have anything to do with, like, you."

"I know," she said. She was still looking at him that way, and before he knew it she darted her head forward and pecked him on the cheek, said, "See you around," and hurried off to the car, leaving him with a bare glimpse of her flushed cheeks.

 _I'm going to have to deal with this, aren't I?_ he thought.

Takaki was passed out snoring in his sleeping bag on the floor while Edward and Billy watched the closing credits of SNL roll on the ancient Motorola Edward's mom had picked up secondhand, the bad color turning the features of the cast and Zac Efron a queasy green. Edward got up and shut it off, then climbed up on the couch, folded his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. Sleep felt very far away. It always did when he didn't have the warm body he craved to cuddle up against, but there was something else tonight. He and Billy hadn't said a word after Takaki fell asleep. He had never felt so estranged from his best friend, hadn't even been able to look at him after Caddy left.

Minutes ticked by, sleep no closer, and then, out of the dark: "Hey."

He looked over in the direction of Billy's voice. "Hey."

"I'm sorry."

Edward swallowed and thought this over. It was good to hear, and he was so relieved that he was inclined to just let everything go…but it wasn't enough.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked.

"I don't know…or maybe I do." Billy sighed. "I just…I guess I kinda mean what I said. You're different than you used to be."

"What's that mean, different?"

"Dude. Everything that's been going on with you. I mean, we used to talk about girls. We used to talk about everything. Now every word out of your mouth is, Bella and I did this, Bella and I did that, and that's when I see you, which it feels like I never do. It's summer, man. Summer used to be like three months seeing each other every day, hanging out here, hanging out at my place, playing games in the park…now you say you're at my house, but you never are. Your mom thinks we spend like every second together still…but this is the first time I've seen you since, I dunno? June?"

"Well, what do you expect? I've got a girlfriend, man. And it's not like a typical girlfriend where she has the summer off too and I can just see her whenever or have her over here for dinner or bring her to hang out at your house. I know you don't understand—"

"See, _that's_ what I'm talking about. It's like all of a sudden you're older than me. I'm three months and five fucking days older than you, dude. I understand. Like, I get it. It's not that complicated. And I'm doing you a huge favor being your out whenever you want to go see her. All I'm asking is, like, maybe you could really _actually_ come over sometime? But whenever she wants to see you, you run. Stop being so pussy-whipped."

Heat flooded into Edward's face. He could actually see red beating in time with his heart, and for a second, he was so mad he thought he might pass out.

"What did you call me?" he asked. His voice was trembling, his hands clenching and unclenching unconsciously.

"Pussy-whipped. It means you do whatever the hell she says and don't care about anyone else anymore."

"You don't even know her."

"Well, whose fault is that!"

Takaki's breathing changed, and the two went silent.

"Mom," Takaki sleep-mumbled, "I don't wanna wear the pink boxers."

The silence held for a moment, and then Edward and Billy both began to giggle uncontrollably, muffling the sound as best they could with their elbows. Edward looked down at Billy, tears streaming down his face, Billy's eyes all bulging whites. It reminded them both that they were still friends—best friends.

When he could speak, Edward wiped his eyes and sighed.

"You're right—" "I shouldn't have said—"

They both started in at the same time, then both stopped.

"No, man, I went too far," Billy said. "That's your girl. I know. And trust me, I was the last one to think it would go this far…but it did, and if it did, I gotta trust she's not going anywhere. Anyway—"

"No. _I_ need to trust that she's not going anywhere. I mean, I do, but at the same time, part of me still thinks I'm gonna wake up one day and all of this will just have been some dream. But that's on me…I miss hanging out with you, I do. But I just feel like if one day she wants to see me and I can't…she just works so hard, you know—"

"Dude. Stop. Listen to yourself. You love her, right?"

"Yeah, more than anything."

"And she loves you?"

"I think so."

"Does she say she does?"

"Yeah…"

"So maybe you should fucking believe her."

"You're right…you're right. And I shouldn't use you as a cover all the time."

"You can. Man…you _can_. I didn't say a word to anyone all this time, and it's cool. But I just don't want to be _just_ a cover. And it'd be nice to actually know her, you know? So I know what the fuck you're talking about? Because all I see in my head when you talk about her is a big pair of titties."

"Hey!" Edward hissed.

"I'm kidding. Kind of. Remember when we used to talk about her all the time?"

"Yeah…and spy on her and Emmett."

"Yeah. It's just still weird for me, is all. It'd be nice to have it feel as normal as it does for you."

"I can talk to her. Maybe you can come over and we can all hang out."

"…You think she'd be cool with that?"

"Sure. You're keeping our secret. And _her_ best friend is sure around enough."

"She single?"

The giggles took Edward again at the thought of Billy and Angelique at Bella's kitchen table, arm-in-arm.

"Sure," he said. "Just gotta bring your A game."

AN/ Please review! We're trying to crank the chapters out as fast as possible and any encouragement really helps!


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

Bella tugged at the hem of the dress she'd borrowed from Angelique. Her tits were pushed up almost to her neck, and her ass felt like it was about to bust a seam, but she knew she looked good, and the thought of Edward's face was worth a little discomfort. Well, more than a little.

Her eyes went to the clock, then to the ingredients laid out on the kitchen counter. She had done her research. A leg of lamb, caviar (courtesy of Ravon), a bottle of certified black truffle oil (not the perfumed shit Gordon Ramsay complained about), lobster tails, a bag of imported fiddlehead ferns…she'd been saving up for months to give Edward nothing but the best, the most expensive ingredients for his birthday dinner. He could work magic with twenty bucks worth of groceries from Shop Rite, and she could only imagine what he'd do with this stuff, especially since she wasn't exactly sure what some of it was. The Fresh Direct app was a useful tool, though.

She checked the clock again. It was still only five-forty-five, but Edward was always early; he should be walking through the door any minute. They hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks, and even after all the time they'd been together, she could hear the anxious note in his voice over the phone when she told him she had to work yet another double, as if he still thought there was a chance he could lose her. Sometimes this insecurity frustrated her, but mostly, she had to admit, she found it adorable. It was unlikely, it was bizarre, it was still technically criminal…but it was also sometimes the only thing that kept her going through the long days and nights. Not even seeing him, just the promise that she would soon, and the voicemail she would inevitably have waiting for her when she left the diner at dawn, outweighed all the daily dullness of life.

She remembered what Angelique had said: "You gonna _spoil_ that boy."

But Bella couldn't help but feel that Edward deserved to be spoiled. There was just so much goodness in him. It had taken her months to really appreciate that about him. She had always been so disappointed by any promise of goodness that later turned out to be a lie or a scheme that by the time she was eighteen she'd decided to take badness upfront so as not to get stabbed in the back later on—witness Emmett. But over their first year together, Edward had showed her that sometimes what seemed too good to be true was actually both, and she'd gone from hesitantly trusting and trying not to love him fully to missing him when he wasn't around to being unable to stand the thought of ever being without him.

She was so lost in these thoughts, unaware of the dreamy smile on her face as she looked blankly at the sink, as if she were still some lovesick teenager, that she jumped at the sound of the door.

"Bella…?"

The voice was hesitant, and its newfound deepness still caught her a little off guard. She turned to see Edward stooped over, poking his head into the house, and beamed.

"Come to me," she said, holding out her arms.

He smiled back, still a little tentative, but coming to her as he always did, straightening as he did to his full, wholly unexpected six feet, two inches. When they'd first gotten together he'd been half-a-head shorter than her. Now fifteen years old to the day and out of his awkward stage, he towered over her, and she had never felt so safe and so loved as when, as now, he folded her in his suddenly strong arms. She knew he'd been helping Billy practice his curveball in the off-season, but shit, boy.

She kissed him, having to stand on her toes to do it, taking herself by surprise with the force of her own feeling and the urgent need for him, parting his mouth with her tongue and pressing it against his.

After some seconds, she stepped back, delighted with the happy but flustered look on his face as he wiped his mouth.

"Hi," he said, with that voice, that new fucking _voice_ that made her want to strip him and jump him right there in the kitchen.

"I missed you," she said.

"I missed the _shit_ out of you. What, did the A/C go out?"

She shook her head coyly.

"I just…I can't remember the last time I haven't seen you this long."

She raised an eyebrow. "Make you nervous?"

"No! Well…maybe a little."

"Happy birthday," she said, and waved a hand at the counter.

Edward's first thought upon taking in the leg of lamb was that she had been doing all this, working, busting her ass and taking time away from him, for him and him alone, just to make him happy, and had to swallow back a sudden swell of emotion that brought him close to tears. Then he took in the lobster tails, and his expression grew quizzical. Then he saw the truffle oil, the fiddlehead ferns, the kimchi, the figs, the _caviar_ , and thought, _What the fuck am I supposed to do with all this?_

He turned back and saw the widest, sweetest smile he'd ever seen on her face. He tried his best to mimic it.

"Aww…thanks…honey…"

"Did I do good?"

"You did amazing." _Caviar, truffle oil, figs, and lobster?_ Then he took in the way she was dressed, and all thoughts of food, in a rare moment, left his mind. "Oh…God, look at you."

She blushed and shrugged. "Is it aight?"

"Aight? You look amazing, baby—don't think you're going out like that, though."

She swatted at him. "Oh, shut up. Get cooking." He sucked in breath, mind whirling again, and then she touched his arm. "But you'll need these first."

From a bottom cabinet she produced a floppy wrapped gift that sagged a little when she set it in his hands. He squinted at her.

"Baby, you did not need to do all this."

"Too late. Open it."

As he carefully unwrapped the paper along the tape and folds in case she wanted to reuse it, he felt cloth under his fingers and pulled the last of the wrapping off expecting a new shirt…only he felt something hard inside the cloth, and unfolded it to see five gleaming knives, his wide eyes scanning from chef's knife to paring knife to boning knife to carving knife to bread knife, with a long circular rod of honing steel at the end.

He gaped at her. "Baby…you didn't."

"They're Henckels!" Her eyes crinkled a little. "That's good, right?"

"Baby! You got me Henckels!?" He launched himself at her, picked her up in his arms, and spun her around, kissing her while she giggled helplessly.

"I wanted to get the Wurster-something, but it was just so much with everything else…"

"No, you did not need to spend the money on a set of Wusthof…but Henckels, that's amazing too!"

"Okay, put me down now."

He set her gently on her feet, looking into her eyes.

"Thank you. You know you're the only present I need."

"Fuckin' hope so...but I wanted to give you something special."

"You did. So much."

"Good." She kissed him. "Now, get cooking. I'm hungry."

He roasted the lamb with a crust of crushed mustard seeds—bought by him when he'd been a year-or-so younger and eight inches shorter—quartering the figs and setting them in the bottom of the pan, blanching the fiddleheads and then sauteeing them with some garlic and lemon juice. Bella's kitchen was still home to more frozen, processed foods than he cared to think about, but in the last two years, he'd slowly introduced the novel concept of fresh, not frozen, and had even begun changing her mind about the demonic properties of vegetables. As he often noted when she ate her Hungry Man dinners, the little pouch where the green beans lay would now get eaten.

"So…maybe we should put the lobster tails in the freezer for now," he gently suggested.

"But you love lobster!"

"I know, I do. But this meal's so special I want to save some of it for another day."

She seemed to accept this, but she immediately went to the counter, where the jar of kimchi still sat.

"What about this? Don't you want to use this?"

"Maybe. Why don't you open it up and tell me what you think?"

Carefully, as if holding a sacred object, she unscrewed the lid, poked her nose into the kimchi, and recoiled.

"Ugh! God! No! I'm gonna puke. No. Don't use that."

Ariel plodded out from a corner, brushed Bella's leg, and meowed.

"No, I'm not gonna give you this, princess, I don't want to kill you."

They did their best, but they barely made a dent in the lamb. They ate most of the fiddleheads, though, and Bella had three helpings of her favorite dish, mashed potatoes, of which she said Edward's were the best she'd ever had. Afterwards, stuffed and sweating from the hot kitchen, they retreated to Bella's bedroom, the only room in the house with an air conditioner, which she'd picked up used at Edward's insistence after last year's brutal, endless August. Naked and overheated, they lay side by side on Bella's bed, which had now become Edward and Bella's bed, too hot to cuddle for the moment, though his foot strayed against hers, and her hand absently stroked his arm.

"What was it like when you were a sophomore?" he asked.

"Gay."

"Bella. I'm asking."

"I dunno. I fucking hated high school."

"So, tell me about it. You're not always the most communicative person, you know."

"Well, like…freshman year fucking blew. Sophomore year was okay, I guess, but that was when I started getting these—" She gestured at her chest. "—and all of a sudden all these popular kids started trying to hang out with me. Angelique called it radar."

"So, like…Emmett?"

"He was around. But he was with some cheerleader back then, I think."

"Oh. Yeah. Heather. She used to bring me Smarties. Gross."

"Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"When did you first notice me?"

"I always noticed you. You're kinda hard to miss."

"No, but really notice me."

"Always."

"Come on. When you were ten?"

"I mean…even before…you know." He gestured down at his dusting of public hair and the finer hairs on his legs. "All that, you still notice girls. You just don't really get it. It's just like…you like looking. You don't really know why. You just do, when they're pretty."

"Was I always nice to you?"

"Always."

"I never brought you Smarties, though."

"I know, thank God."

Silence by the light of her dim bedside lamp, his foot against hers still, her chipped purple nails against his arm.

"Are you really worried about being a sophomore?"

"I don't know, it just feels so…old."

"Thanks, asshole."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, girls are gonna get an eyeful when they come back from summer break. Must run in the Gibson genes, shooting up overnight."

"Oh, shut up. And I've only grown like an inch over the summer."

"When I look at you, I still see a little munchkin sometimes."

"Nothing little about this," he said, grabbing her hand and putting it over his crotch.

"Edward!" she laughed, pulling her hand away. "It's too hot."

"I'm a growing boy."

She craned her head. "Not at the moment."

He groaned and threw his arms behind his head. "It's fucking _hot._ "

"So…have you thought at all about where you want to go to college?"

The air between them grew heavier—slightly but noticeably.

"Maybe I don't want to go to college."

"You're going to college."

"Maybe I should just drop out and get a job."

"You're _not_ dropping out. Don't be a brat."

"You did."

"And look where I am, busting my ass every day, sometimes fourteen hours a day. If your mom is willing to even help you go to college, you better well take it."

"There's no good colleges around here."

"I know that. But you're smart. Good at math too. You could get in anywhere. Go to Harvard."

He laughed. "Bella, I'm not fucking going to Harvard."

"So, I dunno, Yale."

"Bella. Come on."

"You could definitely get a scholarship. Just keep your grades up…I'll keep tutoring you." She turned over and kissed his cheek.

"Bella, I'm not going anywhere without you."

"Don't be stupid. You're going to college."

"Fine. I'll go to Rockwell."

"That's like a community college…Edward. I'm not going to let you waste your life making the same mistake I did."

"It's like ten minutes away."

"It's like a waste of time."

"Well, I told you, I don't want to go anyway. I want to drop out and help you around the house."

"If you do that I'll leave you."

He looked at her sharply, wounded. "How could you say that to me?"

"I won't let you fuck up your life the way I got fucked up."

"I could be a cook at the diner…you told me Leo was leaving…with the turnover in that place? They'd be happy to have someone who'd stick around and knew what he was doing."

"Making what? Twelve bucks an hour?"

"Better than nothing, what I'm making now."

"Edward. You are fifteen years old. Barely. You have your whole life ahead of you."

"So, what? You think I'm just going to move out, move on, and forget you?"

"You should."

"I'm not going. So, if you're gonna leave me because of that, then leave."

"You're finishing high school, at least. And then you're going to college…but we can talk about that another time."

"What the fuck do I need calculus for anyway? Does _anyone_ need calculus?"

"You _need_ your diploma."

"I just hate seeing you work the way you do. I want to help."

"You can help by easing my mind."

"That's like something my mom would say to Emmett."

"Maybe he should have listened to her. You want to turn out like that?"

"I would never turn out like Emmett."

"I know that and you know that. Now prove that to everyone else that thinks nothing good comes out of this town."

"Jesus. I was just asking about being a sophomore…"

"You need to accept these choices are going to come your way, and sooner than you think. I did what I thought I had to do. You have choices, and I'm not gonna let you throw them away."

"I'm not just gonna throw you away either."

"Edward, come here." He looked sullen, but he rolled her way, and she ran one hand down his back and touched the other to his cheek. "I just want what's best for you."

"What's best for me is being with you."

He kissed her, startling a small moan out of her, but nonetheless she twined her hands into his hair. One of his hands went to her breast and squeezed it, his fingers brushing her erect nipple, and she moaned again. She thrusted herself against him, grabbing his penis, which was standing upright, and stroking it. His free hand went between her legs. It was wet there, suddenly, startlingly wet. He didn't know how much she'd meant what she'd said or whether she was just looking for reassurance, but she wanted him now, was greedy for him. He remembered what Billy said about birthday sex, how he was sure to be greeted, but Bella wasn't like that, and now that it was happening, it was sweet and tender. He slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was clutching at his hair, her mouth on his earlobe, sucking.

"I want you inside me," she breathed into his ear. "Please."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Please."

He rolled her onto her stomach. He wanted to see her tonight, but knew when she was feeling vulnerable she liked to be taken, liked it rough and hard. He parted her legs. She was wetter, and without touching the vial of lube on her nightstand he bent down and slipped himself neatly inside her. She let out a cry. With one hand he pulled her hair back, and she cried out again, "Yes!" With his other hand he reached under her, grabbing her breast again and squeezing as he thrusted. Her mouth was open, gasping. He wanted to kiss it, but tonight wasn't the night, so he said, "You want it?" "Yes! Please, give it to me! Please fuck me!" and he thrusted in more deeply, as hard as he could. He was panting, she was moaning, and as if they were in some cheesy spin-off of _50 Shades of Grey_ , he actually thought they might cum together.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

It had taken a little over a year of casually sneaking in comments and dropping hints for Bella to finally concede to meeting Billy face-to-face. But Edward had kept his word. He went over to Billy's on weekends to watch TV even when his hands were burning to touch Bella's hair, had even told her several times that he wouldn't be able to come to her house for that reason, and, in the disappointed silence on the other end of the phone, had pleaded, "You understand, don't you? Baby? Please tell me you understand."

His teenaged neuroses in these moments had plagued him with the secret certainty that she wouldn't, that his stupid idea of depriving her of twenty-four-hour devotion would cost him everything, but she always had consented with an off-hand remark that she should probably go see Angelique anyway to keep her out of (too much) trouble.

But Billy knew Saturdays were off-limits. Bella had set down the law at work, feeling some small sense of authority now that she'd been made assistant manager—still serving, but with a bump in her wages, and more responsibility. Saturdays off and no breakfast shift on Sundays. She still worked many doubles, but she now had some say in the hiring and some control over the structure of her life for the first time…well, ever.

Barb had miraculously appeared once at the diner with brown stains on her sweatpants and one grimy sneaker missing laces, begging for money, and Bella had been so desperate to get her out of sight that she'd given Barb everything in her apron. That had been a little short of three months ago, and since then, nothing, so Bella considered it money well spent, even if she'd had to eat her dinner out of cans for the three days afterwards if she was shy of a shift meal. She'd seen Barb stagger off, Medusa hair flared orange in the overhead lights of the diner parking lot, and wrestle open the passenger side door of some rusted out old station wagon, and that had been the last of it, at least for now.

Esme seemed almost light lately. Billy would come over to do homework after baseball practice, she would make the boys a quick dinner of baked ziti or chicken parm, or she'd let Edward cook for all three of them, and she hated to admit it, but she secretly longed for those nights. At sixteen, he outdid her every time.

Tonight they were at Edward's. His mom was going to be working late, so Edward and her shared the kitchen. Edward was stuffing artichokes at the table, Billy was struggling to peel some garlic cloves, and Esme was seasoning some chicken breasts, looking anxiously over her shoulder for Edward's approval.

Edward noticed her pulling the thyme from the small spice shelf above the counter. Had Bella or Angelique been here, they would have grabbed it from her hands and tossed it out the kitchen window, but he liked the earthy herbaceous flavor, and let it be.

"So, you boys have big plans tonight?" Esme asked.

"Might go see a movie at the Alamo," Edward said, shooting Billy a warning glance. "Takaki and Caddy might come."

"Oh, Caddy, hmm? She's turning into quite the pretty girl."

"Uh, if you say so."

Edward rolled his eyes at Billy. Esme, though neither of the boys noticed, glanced at the table and took note.

"Well, I want you boys back and in bed by midnight, capece? There are sheets and a blanket over the fold-out downstairs."

"And…where's Billy supposed to sleep?"

"Oh." She glanced over at them again, and this time Edward did notice, puzzled at the unreadable expression on her face. "Well…you know…sleeping bags in the linen closet, if Billy wants to take the floor."

"Why wouldn't he?" Edward asked, looking at his mom like she'd lost her mind.

She cocked her head strangely and went to put the chicken in the oven. Edward and Billy exchanged incredulous glances, but both put it out of their minds. They were too keyed up for what was coming later.

Edward's phone pinged.

Bella: _We're headed to the store. Does your boy drink?_

Edward: _Pick him up some Natty Light. Assuming you're factoring me into this._

Bella: _Yes, stupid._

Edward: _See you soon, angel._

Bella: _Don't ever call me that again._

Edward: _How about buttscrunch?_

Bella: _New phone who dis._

Edward snickered. Billy looked intrigued.

"Is that Caddy?" Esme asked from where she'd been wiping down the counter.

"Nah, it's Takaki," Edward said. "He's coming, but he wants to make sure he gets an aisle seat in case he has to pee during the movie."

Billy laughed.

"Is Caddy coming with you handsome gentlemen?"

Edward's eyes flared. He looked at Billy: _Follow my lead._

"She hasn't answered yet. Billy, you want to do something before dinner? Play gin or something?"

Billy scoffed. " _Gin?_ What—"

Edward's eyes widened insistently.

Billy cleared his throat. "What, uh, do you think? Sure thing, man."

"Mom, we're going to the basement."

"Okay, honey. Cards are in the—"

"Second drawer, I know. Come on, Billy."

Two boys on bikes: what could go wrong?

"Bro, this neighborhood's sketchy," Billy said.

"You have no idea," Edward said. "Best to just keep pedaling, wait till we get to a safe place."

"Dude, I'm pretty sure I just saw like an eight year-old slinging crack a block back."

"Once we get down on Prospect we'll be okay. Just passed the old meatpacking plant."

"Sure, if we don't get jacked, sodomized, and left for dead before then."

"It's cool. We've got kind of, like, an insurance policy."

"What _kind_ of insurance policy? Like Nationwide?"

"No, you'll meet him…but he is on our side."

"Edward…this is some crazy shit…but you're still a massive dork."

"Anyway, about the party…it's a birthday party. And, uh…the hosts—"

"Are cannibals."

"The worst. I was just trying to fatten you up at dinner so they'd leave me alone."

"Okay—man, _what?_ "

"They're loud, okay?"

"So? I'm loud."

"You _think_ that."

"Son, I _know_ that!" Billy cried, and then looked uneasily behind him at all the shadows that might contain predatory thugs waiting to pounce.

Bella had just helped the Robinsons finish setting up lawn chairs, doubling back to pick up the ones Cece and Major knocked over as they ran cackling and brandishing sparklers around the yard.

"Now, ya'll stop _running_ with them things before you trip and burn ya damn faces off!" Angelique cried, leaning forward but not getting up from where she sat on the porch with a freshly opened beer.

"You wanna stop running something, whyn't you stop running your mouth?" Major said.

"Oh, boy, don't _make_ me get up!" Angelique said, though she still appeared in no danger of doing so.

At the other end of the yard, the title fight was well underway, Ravon hunched over, sweat pouring down his back, facing off against an ancient grill that hissed and popped and showed no signs of producing anything like a workable flame.

"It ain't no party without no BBQ," Shug said rather solemnly from behind Ravon, peering lightly over his shoulder.

"I'll get the damn thing lit if you get your rotund ass outta my light! Goddamn, Shug, ain't you supposed to be putting up decorations?"

"I'm the guest of honor," Shug protested. "How's a man supposed to feel properly celebrated if he's being put to work at his own party?"

"Aw, Shug—fine, then, just get outta my face!"

"Be nice, Ray Ray, he's just trying to help," Bella said, brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face as she filled the cooler.

"Ain't nothing, Bella, just some brotherly love," Shug said with a little laugh. "Them Ecto Coolers chilled yet?"

"Put them in early, just for you," she said, and handed him a box. "Happy birthday, brother."

"Now you know just cuz you family, that does not make you black," Ravon said.

"No, my drunk ass is white trash and proud of it, thank you very much."

"Speaking of your drunk ass, why don't you pull up them jeans, girl?" Angelique called from the porch. "We got kids around, and crack kills."

"Angel, I'm sure Cece gets a nice peek at your titties every morning."

Angelique snorted. "Fair point."

There was a doubled whirring from somewhere down the street. Ravon straightened up from the grill, looking grateful for the distraction, and watched as two white boys on bikes approached his gate.

"Aw, goddamn, it's about time, lil chef," he said. "You got any idea how to light up this goddamn grill?"

"Don't know nothing about grills, Ravon," Edward said, chaining his bike to the metal posts out front.

Beside him, Billy looked very lost, but he did his best to follow Edward's lead, mimicking his every move, only a half-step out of time.

"I brought a friend," Edward announced over the fence. "Hope that's okay."

"Oh, Bella said there'd be another lost boy," Angelique said. "I just thought she took up polygamy _and_ cougaring."

Billy turned to Edward and mouthed, clearly rattled: _That her?_

Edward leaned in toward Billy and murmured, "All yours, dude."

Bella lifted herself to her feet. "Sup, brat."

"Hey, baby," Edward replied. He let himself in through the gate, walked over, and kissed her, and even though she was trying to keep her cool, she touched her hands to his face, missing him.

Cece and Major stopped for a second, observing, then giggled and started prancing around again with their sparklers, chanting, "Edward and Bella, sitten in a tree, F-U-C—"

"Kids!" Angelique said, finally jumping to her feet.

Cece and Major went off running, Edward, smirking, pulled away from Bella, and Bella went over to the gate, where Billy was tentatively letting himself in.

"Hey," she said. "Sorry, my boyfriend's got shit for manners, or he would have introduced you. I'm Bella."

"I know…I mean, we met before."

Bella nodded. "Yeah, I guess we did. Before."

She looked over at Edward, suddenly seeing not who he'd grown into, but the boy he'd been when they'd gotten together, and before, the ghost of the child that still lived in his face, and deep inside, she felt warm and cold at the same time.

Bella called out, "Robinsons, Billy. Billy, Robinsons."

A chorus of responses followed, all overlapping, from "How you doin'," to "Bring your ass over here, boy," to "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Billy started into the yard, trying to act as if he belonged, and started when Ravon cried out, "God _damn_! Finally! Is this how the damn cavemen felt?"

"You finally got that grill lit?" Angelique laughed from the porch.

"I got the burgers," Bella said, going to the cooler. That had been her and Edward's contribution. "Shug, you want one or two?"

Shug was nowhere to be found. As his unpredictable comings and goings had become expected, Bella shrugged it off and began portioning out burgers as the others started calling in their orders.

"Should we have one?" Billy asked Edward in a low voice.

"I'm stuffed, man."

"Hey, who all come to a barbeque and don't at least have a little chow," Ravon asked.

"We had to eat at home. Cover, for my mom."

"Well, you eat when your mama tell you," Ravon agreed.

"I could have a beer, though," Billy whispered to Edward. "Is that cool?"

Edward smirked at him. "Honey, could we have a couple out of the cooler?" he asked Bella.

"You come get them yourself," she said.

"She hasn't changed," Billy chuckled.

"No," Edward said, grinning. "She hasn't."

Bella, Edward, Ravon, and Billy were sitting in a small circle around the dwindling heat of the grill. Bella and Ravon were each doing their best to demolish the pile of burgers sitting beside the grill, and even Edward and Billy, once the smell had hit them, had each had one. Angelique was inside putting Major and Cece to bed, and quiet had settled over the yard except for the rhythmic chirping of crickets.

"You boys smoke?" Ravon asked.

"Well, I've tried it," Billy said, "but my grampa died of emphysema, so, I don't know, it's pretty frowned-on in my family."

"I don't mean that, boy. The green!"

"He smokes," Edward said to Ravon.

"Oh, pot!" Billy's eyes lit up. "Oh, for sure."

"Gotta say," Bella said, ashing her cigarette into the dirt, "I'm not big on it, but Ravon's shit gets you, like… _baked._ "

"Awesome!" Billy said, digging into his pockets. "How much?"

The other three shared a look and laughed.

"Son, put your money away 'fore I get tempted to take it," Ravon said. "This is a party. Enjoy the favors."

He handed a brown-wrapped blunt out to Billy along with a silver Zippo. Billy put the blunt between his lips, then flipped the lid, struck the wheel, and lit. The tip of the blunt flared orange, and then Billy gagged, coughed, and exhaled a thick fog of smoke. Ravon sat back in his chair, clapping.

"There you go," he said. "That's how you do it, boy."

"What I miss," Angelique said, coming out of the house.

"I got it all set up," came a voice from behind her, and then Shug emerged, carrying a squat, fat telescope in his arms like it was his firstborn. "I followed all the instructions."

Ravon threw his arms up. "Aw, Shug! Son, why you go peeking around where you ain't supposed to yet?"

Shug shrugged. "Was just there. Didn't figure we were standing on ceremony."

He kept moving down into the yard, head back, eyes captivated by the wide night sky that was his for the taking, feet moving from memory without a single wrong step.

"Better take good care of it," Ravon said, toking on the blunt that Billy, looking half in a daze, had handed his way.

"The best," Shug said absently, planting the tripod in the dry grass and easing himself down, bending over with an odd grace, like he was leaning in to kiss the telescope, and fixing his right eye over the viewfinder.

The rest of them waited, watching, while Shug kneeled, perfectly still, like a man in church, and then sat back, laughing to himself.

"Aw, it's Mars," he said. "I just saw Mars in there, up close."

"Here, Shug," Bella said, handing off the blunt to Edward and pushing herself to her feet. "Why don't you show me?"

"Be my guest, Bella. What's mine is yours."

He scooted aside on his knees in another oddly graceful motion, making room for her, and she kneeled beside him, raking her hair out of her face, and bent over, unsure of herself.

"That little red one?"

"Yes indeed. The red planet."

"That's so funny, it looks like a sticker. Like someone just put one of those stickers right on the other end."

"Yeah, but that's it. Our nearest neighbor."

A silence settled over the yard, and then Billy cleared his throat and said, "Did you ever think, though, that maybe there _are_ tiny people on Mars…just like us, and they have all the same things we have, like, civilizations, but they're just _way_ too small for us to see, and maybe they're looking back at us, like, hey! You guys are huge!"

"Son, you gonna bogart that thing or you gonna pass it over?" Ravon asked.

But then his eyes grew round as saucers. He knew that glimmer. There were lights swirling through the trees around them, red and blue—no sirens, but that was, if anything, a bad sign. It meant they were coming for a reason.

"Hold up," he said, as quietly and urgently as he could manage. "You. Barry. Ditch that thing now. And we gotta get these kids away from the fucking cooler as fast—"

He broke off, seeing the car and seeing it drift right past his house. For a second he thought it was just a patroller, though he thought every cop knew scoping out this end of Prospect was a lost cause, and then the car turned into the driveway next door. Bella's house.

AN/ Please review!


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

"Boy, what did you do?"

The words hung in the night air, Billy looking blearily at the swirling strobes of the police car next door, his head weaving like a punch-drunk fighter—and then something seemed to click, and he came back to his senses and looked around to see Angelique glaring down at him like an avenging angel from the porch, eyes blazing.

"Wha?" he said.

"You been talking?" she said, setting her half-eaten hot dog down and pushing herself to her feet, then striding down toward him, loose-knit sweater dress streaming behind her. "You been saying shit you shouldn't? We all family here, so I damn well know _we_ didn't."

"Angelique—"

"Don't you even, girl! This your life, and that mean this _our_ life! When there a rat in the house, it's _always_ the one who ain't in the family!"

"It's not him!" Edward protested.

"Aw, boy, you _naïve_ ," Angelique said. "You think his balls ain't pressed that you fucking a girl and he ain't?"

"No. Angel," Bella said, getting between them. "Stop. I believe him. I trust him…I mean, Edward does, and that's good enough for me."

"Son better hope so," Ravon said, leveling his eyes at Billy, "or best luck to him getting home…but until then, he has my complete protection, Angelique."

"Guys, he's going up to the door," Edward said. "So none of this matters, okay?"

"I'll go," Bella said. She had straightened up, and as they watched, she swept her hair back over her shoulder and seemed to summon something in herself.

"Bella—" Edward began.

But she wasn't listening, was already crossing the yard to the gate, letting herself out, and walking next door.

Edward started after her, and Angelique put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Ssh, now," she said with more emotion than he'd ever dreamed was in her, and he looked over at her to see her eyes glistening. "What's gonna happen, will. Edward, just…"

She swallowed thickly, unable to finish, and shook her head, but her hand never left his shoulder.

Next door, Bella was approaching the cop on the porch, gesturing, saying dimly, "Hi, this is my property, is everything okay?"

What came next was a silent movie: the cop slowly turning, glancing at his partner in the passenger seat of the black-and-white as if to keep him on guard, then stepping down from the porch toward Bella; low words between him and her; her, producing her battered wallet from her back pocket and showing him the license in its plastic frame; him taking a step closer, speaking so low that none of them could make it out; her expression, brows drawing down, questioning, quizzical; she stepped back, a half-beat before he stepped still closer, as if they were enacting a ballet recital; then her hands went to her face, loose sleeves seeming to stream down her body as if in denial.

The cop put a hand on her shoulder, and what all of them had been waiting for never came: he didn't turn her around, pull his cuffs from his belt, and slap them on her wrists. But when she lowered her arms, they could see incredulous tears shining on her cheeks in the orange glow of the streetlights.

Edward again moved toward her without thinking, and again Angelique held him back.

"Let her be, now," she murmured. "Ain't nothing you can do to help this, whatever it is."

The cop was speaking to Bella, and the rest of them heard only the gentleness in his tone. Her cheeks were still wet, and there was a stunned confusion in her eyes, like she'd been struck brutally hard without warning.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Bella heard herself ask.

"The driver's in St. Vincent's with a broken collarbone and a broken wrist…but she wasn't wearing her seatbelt, and with a direct impact at that speed…" He lowered his eyes and shook his head, letting a respectful silence finish for him, letting Bella do the work of imagining her mother thrown headfirst through the windshield, glass cleaving into her face and her fine faded straw hair, maybe dead before she even hit the hood. After a moment, the cop added, "The passenger of the other vehicle also, unfortunately, didn't make it."

"So, what happens to the driver?" she asked.

"He was clocked with a blood alcohol content of .22," the cop said. "In this state, with a double fatality, that's two counts of aggravated vehicular manslaughter. He could be going away for a long, long time. Twenty years, maybe twenty-five."

This news was little consolation, though. The man who'd probably been too drunk to walk but still got behind the wheel with her mother in the seat beside him, and however miserable the rest of his life would turn out as a result, he'd still be drawing breath, able to play cards, eat fried chicken, tell jokes in the prison commissary, and her mother would be sitting in an urn or lying under six feet of earth, her joke-telling days long at an end.

"Do you have any more questions, miss?"

"Where is she? I mean…what happens to her now?"

"They have her at St. Vincent's now until you make the arrangements."

Bella looked at him, puzzled. What would her mother be doing in a hospital bed if what this cop had said was true? Then she understood what he meant. She was in the hospital, but down in the morgue, on a cold slab of metal like you see on TV, or tucked away in a drawer.

"And if I just want the body disposed of?" she asked.

The cop cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. Unlike his brother, a doctor, he still made house calls, and they were never pleasant, especially in these neighborhoods.

"You can think it over before you make any decisions," he said. "Do you have anyone you can call, Miss Swan? A relative, a friend, someone to keep you from being alone tonight?"

She glanced next door, saw a sea of worried faces looking back at her, and gestured in that direction. "Next door, um…I have family."

He looked briefly that way, offered those assembled a grim nod, and said to Bella, "I'd say go be with them, then. It's never easy, but especially the first day. And if you can take comfort in this, know that she didn't suffer. Probably didn't feel a thing." He touched her shoulder again and gave it a squeeze. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Miss Swan."

"You run along home now, boy," Angelique said. "Last thing she needs is your momma out looking for you. We had enough tears tonight already."

Edward looked reluctantly over her shoulder to the kitchen table, where Bella sat staring vacantly at an empty shot glass, a bottle of Stoli from the Robinsons' freezer in front of her.

"You won't leave her alone tonight?" he asked.

"I would never. I'll be here when she goes to sleep, when she wakes up, and when you come back tomorrow."

The boy, who was starting to look too much like a man, went into the kitchen and murmured something into Bella's ear. Still lost in her own carousel of memories, Bella fumbled for him, pulled him down to her level, and clutched him.

The front door opened, Edward's friend Billy jumping and glancing that way as Ravon came in.

"I'm gonna drive the boys home now," Ravon said. "Gets too much later, we're gonna have questions don't none of us want to have to answer."

"Go ahead, Edward," Angelique said. "Time to get going. She's in good hands."

"I know," Edward said, voice muffled, still pressed against Bella. Gently he disengaged her arms from around him and set them in her lap, holding both of her hands. His eyes were wet. He touched her cheek with one hand, then kissed her and said, "I'm so sorry, baby. I'll be back tomorrow. Promise. Soon as I can."

Bella nodded. Her own eyes were terribly wide but dry—all the tears, at least for now, had been shed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Edward gave her hands one last squeeze and walked toward Ravon. "Okay, let's go. Come on, Billy."

Billy stood with one hand awkwardly clinging to his other wrist, unhappy and uncomfortable, seeming to wish there was anything to do to help make things better, or at all. Whatever place he had here was gone in the wake of what had happened, but he didn't move just yet. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Bella said dully. She was pouring herself another shot.

Ravon guided the boys outside to his Cadillac convertible. She saw their hunched, gawky shapes cross the yard through the front window, led by the orange wink of Ravon's cigar.

"Are you gonna make me get shitfaced all by myself?" Bella asked, words slurring.

Angelique went into the kitchen and dropped into the chair beside Bella.

"Girl," she said, "you remember the day my mama packed up?"

Bella hitched laughter that rode on the edge of sobs. "And you got so drunk we got infinity tattoos on our asses, and just to make you happy I went along with it."

"Pre- _cise_ -ly."

Angelique poured her own shot, tapped it against Bella's, and slugged it back.


	18. Chapter 18

Bella was constantly caught between two strains of thought. For the last two weeks, she had been stopping at odd moments throughout the house, going to the bathroom in the middle of the night or to the kitchen for a glass of water, blindsided by memories. It was desperately hard to find good ones, and even when they came, they were tainted with the bad around them. Going to feed Ariel on the way to a shift, she paused with the opened can in one hand, not seeing the cat twining her way through Bella's legs but a scraggly, malnourished grey kitten held in her mother's callused hand.

That had been the year she'd dropped out of school, not long after Mrs. Robinson had abandoned her misfit clan for sunnier climes and better days, and Bella had been hoping her own mother, whom she hadn't seen in weeks, had also made the decision to disappear. When she was drunk and resentful, she often threatened Bella with this prospect. One of these days I'll just put on my walking shoes, she said. One day I'll step outside and get in the wind, and then what you gonna do, Isabella? But that day never came.

One way or another her mother would find her way back through the solace that was the door with the fractured hinge and into what would always be _their_ threshold. A shared space occupied by two people but only through blood and bad memories connected. Never again would she stumble through that threshold to safety from the cruel world she had chosen to be a part of full time to support her drinking. Bella had sworn when she picked up at the diner full-time she would never give her mother another dollar. She would pay the electric, the taxes, the cable, and for the food she kept the house consistently stocked with, but not another dollar would ever pass from her hand to her mother's. She kept good on that promise until that rainy day at the diner.

Now she was left wondering if maybe she had offered a helping hand, her mother might have taken a taxi that night, but knowing somewhere in her conflicted aching heart it would have made no difference. Every dollar went away with a drop of deadly sickness guzzled, what did a safe ride have on a black out night with her "friends" at the bars she frequented. She told herself this. She played it on repeat, almost like a mantra. It didn't stop the questions and what ifs that were coming like ghosts in the night.

She was sitting at the table with Ariel wedged between her ankles; the cat had been sticking to her side like never before the past two weeks. She had not spoken to Edward the past four days. She had taken on four days of doubles, and every night when she got off she had a text message from him which she looked at with her fingers lingering over the keyboard before tucking her phone in her pocket and starting her trek home. Angelique had picked her up from work a handful of times these past two weeks, offering what she could to help her dear friend while they drove home through the chilly fall night. Angelique knew the pain that was coursing through Bella. She had felt the same pain when she chalked off her own mother as dead. A Christmas card still came every year with a check for $500. A hundred for each of her siblings and she and Ravon were tempted each year to just tear it up. Instead they hid the card from their siblings and put the money away for Cece and Major's college funds.

There came a night when Bella was off and Angelique was working at the club, but Bella knew she would not be alone.

There came a knock at the door. It was quiet, hesitant, and it set her teeth on edge. She knew she was withdrawing from him. She knew it probably sent his insecurity and anxiety into overdrive, but she just couldn't help it. There hadn't even been a funeral. She just ignored the calls and let the body be disposed of. There was no viewing; no closure. And she now knew there likely never would be for this wound.

"Bella?" he called quietly. "The lights are on. That usually means you're home."

She sighed softly and gathered herself to call, "Come in."

The door creaked open and he walked in his feet shuffling softly. He looked thirteen again. He was so much taller-she thought she must be about Emmett's height by now-but he was leaner, with slightly muscled arms that could be seen underneath his black sweater that complimented his only slightly tanned skin still kissed from summer. His honey colored eyes down cast, copper hair cropped.

"I'm sorry," she found herself saying softly.

"Why are you sorry? I just wish I knew what I could do to help you," he pleaded, and walked over to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her lips with just enough pressure.

When he let go there were tears in her eyes again. This was why she didn't want him around in these moments. He made it to easy to let her hard shell, dented but never broken, fall away from her.

"What can I do Bella?" he asked, begging with his eyes.

"I-I don't know. I think I just need time. I just need some t-time," she spluttered out, her tears coming faster, choking back sobs.

"So do you want me to leave? I've just been so worried about you." He brought her into a big bear hug, pulling her up from her chair.

"Don't you have that school camping trip this weekend?" She brought a hand through her hair and gathered some strength in her voice.

"I did, but I'm not going, you need me." Edward said strongly looking more his age of sixteen.

"Edward, you only have so much time to be a kid. I told you that I wanted you to go when they sent the letter out."

"Yeah but that was… you know...before." He looked down.

"I could use the time to be alone anyway. You should go home and start packing," she said and sat back down.

"I really don't like the idea of leaving you alone all weekend." He looked like there was nothing she could say to change his mind.

"Edward I can always pick up a shift this weekend. I'm sure Rob would be happy to have an extra manager on Saturday."

"You shouldn't be picking up more work, you should be relaxing and letting me take care of you. I could make you that chicken soup you like. You know the one with the little spaghetti noodles." He tried to lure a smile from her.

"I love you. But this is not the kind of sickness chicken noodle soup can cure."

He sighed. "You really want me to go, don't you?"

"Yes, I want you to enjoy yourself. I promise, we can spend next weekend together. I'll put in for Saturday and Sunday."

"Fine Bella, if this is what you really need, I'll go. But if you need me I'll walk back if I have too."

"You really are a brat." He had in fact pulled a smile from her.

"I'm your brat." He leaned down and kissed her softly.

He pulled away, they said their goodbyes, and he departed to pack for the weekend away from her.

AN/ Hi guys sorry about the slow update we've been really busy. Please, please, please, review it really does encourage us to update I can see how many people follow this story and that alone is encouragement but if you really like it leave a little note and let us know what you like, where you think its going, or what you don't like. It will really give us that push to get chapters up faster.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

"Edward. Edward, honey, it's 6 am. We need to leave in thirty minutes if we're going to make that bus," Esme called through the doorway to his room.

"Five more minutes," Edward grumbled, nuzzling his face back into the pillow.

"Nope—now, or we'll never make it. This is a great opportunity that we couldn't afford without that extra school funding that came through." She was using her tsking tone.

"Fine, fine, fine, I'm getting up, I'm getting up." He groaned before hoisting himself from the comfort of the bed.

He dressed as quickly as he could. A white T shirt and dark jeans. Boots his mother had picked up at Kohl's specifically for this trip. They weren't Timbs, but they would keep his feet warm. He threw on a black and red heavy flannel which he left unbuttoned and a black fitted cap turned to the side on his head. He walked out of his room dropping down the stairs.

"I checked over your bags last night. You forgot your deodorant so I packed it," Esme said, mothering him too closely again.

"Well, I had planned on using it this morning," he chuckled.

"Oh, right. Duh," she laughed. "Right hand pocket of your backpack."

He reached into the bag and pulled out the Old Spice brand deodorant and walked back up the stairs to brush his teeth and apply it.

"Do you want to stop at McDonalds before we get there? I know how hungry you get," she called from the bottom of the stairs.

He rolled his eyes a tiny bit but smiled. She was just such a mom. He came down the stairs to see her still standing there. "I packed a lunch last night while you were at work, it's in the fridge. I'm sorry you have to drive me today. I know you worked late."

He kissed her cheek and after a moment she pushed him away, smiling. "It's no problem Eddie."

"Oh mom, please don't call me that." He blushed hotly.

"Alright, alright." She grinned. "Well, get your jacket on and let's get going. Sleeping bag is already in the car."

"Gotta get my lunch." He tugged his jacket on, jogged to the fridge, and pulled out the brown paper bag.

"Did you make something for Billy?" she asked, casting a sly eye on him.

"Am I his mother?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Well, I just know how much he likes your cooking."

"He can bring his own lunch, mom." He squinted at her.

"Alright," she said, smiling at him out of the corner of her mouth, seeming to taunt him with some knowledge that he was completely oblivious of.

"Mom…is there something you want to talk about?"

She was going through his backpack, pushing down his clothes and making room for bug spray. "Is there something _you_ want to talk about?" she asked offhandedly.

"About…what? Billy? What?"

She came over to him then, pinched at his chin the way she'd always done when he was small, and said, "Edward, I just hope you know I'll always love you, no matter what. Or who you love."

"No matter…aw, Mom! _Mom!_ "

"I've been wanting to sit down with you for a while now, but I just, I wanted you to take the first step, but if you're not comfortable—"

"Mom, I'm not gay!"

Now she grasped his shoulders, said, "Whoever you are, honey, I'll always love you," and while he was still trying to make sense of this, she zipped up his backpack and started for the car.

They rolled up to the school in her 2009 Hyundai Sonata. The three buses were being loaded with camping gear, the students it belonged to standing around in small groups, listless, surprised that this hour of the morning even existed. Other than Caddy, Edward didn't think he knew one person that had ever been camping before. Upstate seemed like a foreign land. The moment the car stopped, Edward took off his seat belt and flung the door open.

"Edward, wait!" His mother called, putting the car in park. She got out and popped the trunk. "Are you so anxious to get away from me that you're just going to run off without everything?"

"Oh…right," he said.

She waved a white slip of paper at him. "And here is your permission form."

"Thanks, mom. I'll see you Sunday night." He gave her a quick hug and grabbed his sleeping bag and backpack from the trunk.

"Just be careful," she said.

"Mom, it's a school trip. Breathe."

"Okay, okay. I'll be here to pick you up at five on Sunday. Have fun."

She watched him run over to the bus and hand in his permission slip to the teacher, her Edward, who for some reason seemed so closed off to letting her in on what had obviously become the most important part of his life. She knew there were secrets he was keeping, parts of himself he was walling off, and she wanted so badly to break through, but, she allowed, maybe now wasn't the right time, and if, she suspected, there _wasn't_ a right time, there was still a better time, as much as her heart ached from not having the whole truth of him out in the open, and that was that.

He waited until he saw her drive away. He then said to Mr. Bronson, "How long until we leave?"

"Bout a half hour," Mr. Bronson said, looking at his watch, then returning to his phone.

"Okay." Edward stepped away and around the bus and checked his phone—he had a text from Billy.

Billy: At the spot

He took off at a run.

He made it past the gym where the trees—what kind, exactly? Elms? Maples? Why did so many people on TV and in books always seem to know the names of things?—exploded from their narrow, grim, two-by-two lines into a wild orgy of trunks and foliage, something like a miniature forest. He strode into the sudden thicket, pushing branches out of the way. He could smell it before he saw them.

"You guys," he said, almost shaking from his embarrassed eagerness, and the other three, Caddy and Takaki and, yes, Billy, looked dazedly his way from their impromptu circle.

"Where you been? We said 6:30, man," Takaki said, and took a hit of a tattered, badly rolled blunt.

"My mom wanted to talk my ear off this morning, my bad," Edward said, going to Takaki and holding out his hand. It was jittering a little, but he was trying to seem calm before he could pull Billy aside and tell him how fucked up his life was.

Billy jumped up off a wide rock where he'd planted himself, never one to expend effort unless his coach was watching, and said, "And don't chief it this time." And Edward couldn't help but think, _Mom, him? Really?_

But he took the offered blunt with faked casualness, said, "I never chief it," and took two long hits, the better to cloud his mind with.

"I think he meant Takaki, the great lush," Caddy said, plucking the blunt from Edward with her long fingers before he'd even had a chance to exhale.

"I am _not_ a lush. Plus, I bought the wrapper," Takaki said, slightly defensively.

"I bought the bud so that makes me chief by right," Billy said simply.

"Billy, it's a blunt, not gold," Edward said already beginning to feel the warm fuzzies creep up his face and behind his eyes, and aware, even as he was coming blissfully disconnected from himself, that he somehow resented Billy for what his mom had suggested.

"I just want to sleep the whole way up," Caddy said taking the blunt away from Billy when he reached for it and taking another toke. "Mouth breathers all, of em."

"I hope no one notices how high we are," Takaki said. His face was flushed, his eyes anxious—then, he brightened. "Takaki parent string him up by kimono and beat him with large halibut until he stop moving!"

"Don't you think that's getting a bit old?" Caddy asked, reluctantly surrendering the blunt to Billy's grasping fingers.

Takiki pouted, his eyes red and bloodshot. He was suddenly glum, muttering, "Takaki is center of humor…the comic gods grin down on Takaki through sunny window."

"Whatever you say." Caddy said. "We should get back, though."

"There's still some left," Billy pointed out, and as if to prove it, took another pull.

"Well, I'm heading back. I don't need my dad getting any more calls from school," she said and began to walk away.

"I'm good too," Edward said and began to follow behind her.

"Pussies!" Billy called after them.

Caddy looked behind to see Edward following her, blocking all but the outline of disbelieving Billy, blocking Billy's eyes, which were narrowed on the two of them—but there, with the rising sun aflame behind him, making his still shocking enormous frame seem to burn as well, was Edward, Edward who was different than he'd ever been, Edward who was the same as he'd always been, and she thought, _It's going to be now. It has to be now._

AN/ Four reviews in one day – we are so humbled, honored, and delighted to see how many of you are still invested even though we've been delayed in pushing our work forward. We hope these two posts have made up for it somewhat and hope even more to be more productive in the future to see the story through to its conclusion as soon as possible. Reviews are what keep us going, so please help keep us going and review!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 19

When Edward woke up, his arm was wet. He thought blearily that there was a leak in the roof, but when he looked up there was only a broad stretch of blue carpeting, and then his still sleeping mind latched onto where he was, and he lowered his head to see Takaki's unlovely face yawning only inches from his own, trees blurring past in the window beyond. He grimaced, wiped his arm off on his jeans, and turned his head to see Caddy even closer to him, her head nestled against his shoulder, drooling there as she had on his wrist. Finding himself in the middle of what was hopefully unwittingly a friend sandwich, not wanting to disturb them but feeling his bladder start to ring the alarm, he extracted himself as gently and quietly as he could and slipped out into the aisle.

Half the bus was asleep, the other half chattering excitedly. He stumbled slightly to the back of the bus where the restroom was. He checked the door and it read available. He turned the knob and slid inside. He relieved himself smelling the overwhelming scent of disinfectant. He then as if trying to delay going back to his seat pulled out his phone checking for texts from Bella, of which there were none.

Just when he had decided he would have to leave the bathroom or the entire bus would think he was spraying diarrhea all over the inside of the metal bowl, the bus took a hard right turn and he dimly heard one of the teachers who was chaperoning them announce from the front of the bus that they would be pulling up to the campground in a few minutes. He flushed, washed his hands in the weak trickle of the sink, and let himself out.

"Got the squirts?" Billy asked from the nearby aisle seat where he'd been sitting with his baseball buddies, who dutifully guffawed.

"Nah, just shooting your mom a text," Edward said, clapping Billy on the arm and moving up the aisle. Guess he had learned something from Bella.

Edward had no idea what was with Billy lately, but there always seemed to be this edge to every interaction they had. And this latest—fuck with him, yeah, but in front of outsiders? At his expense? It was too much.

There was a tight feeling in his stomach as he retook his seat.

"Where'd you go?" Caddy asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Just talking to Billy."

"And all his new best friends? That must've been fun."

"Yeah, he's been weird lately, right?" Takaki yawned.

"Must be that time of the month," Edward said.

"Ew."

"Hey!" Caddy protested. "Girl here, excuse me? Want to rephrase?"

"Girls' bodies are gross," Takaki said.

"Don't worry," Caddy said, shooting him a glare, "you'll probably never get close enough to one for it to matter."

"Ookay, I didn't know you guys were cycling together," Edward said.

"Dude, I don't exercise," Takaki said, blinking, and turned to the window.

"How the fuck did you guys do that?" Takaki asked.

"Military, dumbass?" Caddy said. "My dad taught me how to put up a tent when I was like six years old."

"He show you how to put an M-16 together, too?"

"You don't shut up, you're gonna find out."

"It looks good, though," Edward said, admiring the impeccable angles of the tent Caddy had helped her group of six girls erect, in contrast to the drooping monstrosity he, Takaki, and the other oddballs they'd been stuck with had struggled with.

Caddy beamed at him. "Thanks, Edward…I mean, I had help."

"No, come on, you kicked ass."

She kept smiling, but when she opened her mouth, she could say nothing. But she couldn't help but notice that _he_ didn't notice how flustered she was, and something panged in her heart.

Mr. Bronson plodded out from the teachers' cabin, eyeing all nine tents like a man spotting a plague of hornet nests in the eaves around his house, and said, chewing a toothpick with notably more enthusiasm for the toothpick than the words, "All right everyone…who wants to go fishing?"

Nine fires, started by the students, and who would have ever thought that would happen? The grounds had supplied the logs, placed strategically around each fire for the students to sit on, and the grates for each student to lay their foil-wrapped fish and potatoes on atop each pit, though the school had supplied the foil and the potatoes. The students, or, in most cases, their campground-supplied guides, had caught the fish, and the camp had, behind the scenes, scaled, skinned, and gutted them, producing at the right moment a filet for every boy and girl to wrap and lay over the fire.

Billy sidled up to where Takaki and Edward stood hunched over their fire scrutinizing the foil-wrapped fish they'd laid overtop the grate.

"You guys have X-ray vision or something? How do you think you're going to know when it's done?"

"Well, fish cook faster than potatoes," Edward said. "We're just trying to decide when to pull it."

"Edward really knows his shit, man," Takaki said.

"We already pulled ours," Billy said.

"Good luck eating raw trout," Edward said.

Billy stepped back, mouth souring, and exploded, "Dude, what's your problem?"

Edward straightened. " _My_ problem? I'm just thinking about cooking my fish properly. I'm not the one trying to take shots at his friends to get a laugh out of some assholes he barely knows."

"What are you even talking about?" Billy asked, but there was a flicker in his eyes. He struggled with himself for a second, looked around to confirm it was just the three of them within earshot, and then stepped closer to Edward. "You have to have everything, don't you?"

Edward blinked. "What the fuck...are you _talking_ about?"

"You have a girlfriend, you always say you're so happy…well, tell it to yourself, man. You pull this shit?"

Takaki looked up from the fish. "You have a girlfriend?"

Edward couldn't have been more angry. "What. _Shit_."

"I kinda figured you were, like…asexual. When did this happen?" Takaki asked.

Billy was avoiding Edward's eyes, fuming, and Edward bent down a bit to catch his gaze, his own eyes blazing. "Pull _what_ shit?"

Now Billy looked up, and Edward thought this was all going to end with them wrestling on the dirt, knocking against the fire pit, throwing embers everywhere.

"Caddy."

" _Caddy?_ "

Edward stepped back.

Billy was still glaring at him like he wanted to pick up a handful of fire and throw it in his face. Then he exhaled and shook his head.

"Never mind. You just…you enjoy yourself."

Billy turned to go. Edward stepped forward again and grabbed his wrist, and in an instant, Billy was thrusting back with his whole arm as if to catch him in the ribs. Edward jumped away, stumbled against the edge of the fire pit, caught himself.

Edward looked to Billy. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me, dude?" Billy wouldn't look him in the eye, but he went on. "First off, I'm in love with Bella. Second, _Caddy?_ Dude, she's one of us. She's…she's a _dude_ , man! What are you even thinking about?"

"She is not a dude," Billy said, shaking his head, his eyes still focused on the flickering, fire-lit forest floor.

"Do you…like her?"

"Um, I think we're definitely getting into overcooked territory," Takaki said, a healthy distance from the other two, his eyes resolutely focused on the fire.

"Pull it," Edward said, his eyes never leaving Billy. "I trust you."

"Okay, okay," Takaki muttered, "where are the tongs?"

"Draped over my chair," Edward said, still not looking away from Billy. "Dude…do you like Caddy?"

Billy swallowed. "One fuck of a lot more than I like you," and turned and walked off, swallowed by the dark as so much else seemed to be, and Edward, dimly hearing Takaki cursing as he dropped their dinner into the dirt, regretted ever coming on this trip.

AN/ Happy holidays, everyone! We will not be posting over the long weekend, but expect us to come back strong in 2019, or hopefully sooner, if we get enough reviews to help us keep our creative ducks in a row.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 20

When you were twelve, you couldn't do anything. You didn't think about it, really, because no one expected you to. But at some point in the years where middle school met high school, people started looking at you as if to ask, so who are you, anyway? And you started looking around, maybe panicking, for what you had to give, maybe something that was just lying around that you'd never given much thought to, and for you it was all those afternoons playing catch in the yard until the sky grew purple and the fireflies started firing off, your dad telling you to put more spin on it, to give it a little more hustle, throwing until the ball was just another shape in the gloom. Those afternoons when Edward was there too, giving a clumsy toss that your dad had to stoop down and step to the right to catch in his glove but that nonetheless elicited an encouraging, "Good throw!" After which he'd throw to you, and when you threw back, there was no encouraging, just a flat note of criticism, because with you it wasn't just fooling around. Nothing casual about it. Things were expected from you.

You always had the ball. Maybe you didn't think about it, but you always had it, whether it was one you bought for a few bucks at the drugstore or _the_ one, the ball your dad had plucked out of the air as an engineering student in Tirana on that magical day when the '88 Yankees had been on a goodwill tour across Communist Europe and Don Mattingly had nailed one right into the left field stands where Zeqir Tanush happened to be sitting. You had it because baseball was our game, baseball was America, and you, from the time you were five, are American boy now.

Edward was the first boy in school not to make fun of your accent. Edward was the first one to say, "Sure," when you shyly asked at recess, "You want to baseball?" And when he dropped the ball, which he usually did, and said, "Sorry," you said, "You baseball worse than I English," and you both laughed, and in that moment, became friends.

While you were still learning the language, there was a gulf between you, but the two of you worked through it. You came up with hand signals to express things you both understood but couldn't say to each other. Even later, at ten, when you spoke English like you were born here but Tommy Walden smacked your bookbag out of your hands on the way to lunch, Edward looked over at you and cranked his fist down, thumb out, and you heard as if he'd spoken it aloud: _Asshole._

You couldn't figure out why you were doing this. In the early dawn light coming in through the seams of the tent, all you could trace it back to was that baseball was all you had to give when other people started demanding you give _something_ , and Takaki was smart, Caddy was quick, and Edward was kind and caring, could cook, and had Bella. And when the time had come and you had nothing, Edward was, for the first time, nowhere to be found, except when he needed an alibi. But you had the guys, some of whom you'd been playing Little League with since the third grade, starting to sharpen up and go through the same panic you were, to cling onto baseball with that same desperation as you, and when you felt like you had to choose between their team and no team, you made the choice.

EBEBEBEBEBEBEBBEBEBEBEBBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBE

You were born here, that was the funny thing. There are the pictures on the wall going upstairs: your parents showered in rice on their wedding day; your dad fishing in a rusted rowboat in Osaka Bay, caught in the act of throwing his line; your mother full on beaming with the traffic blazing by in some anonymous ramen hole-in-the-wall; both of them looking ruffled and exhausted but deliriously happy after coming through customs at JFK, your mom's belly huge with you. But _you_ were born _here_ , although somehow, you never quite feel like it.

You're a ham. You _love_ hamming it up, playing it up as much as you can, because when they laugh, you feel seen. Your therapist calls it a defense mechanism. You were surprised, and you said back to her, "But people love me. My friends love me," and she just made a noise in her throat and scribbled something on her notepad.

Therapy was your parents' idea. You said, "What are you talking about, I'm fine," and mostly believed it, even though in the depths of your heart you felt estranged even when you were comfortable. The kids at recess pulling their eyes down into slants, the teachers who struggled over your name to muffled snickers from the class, the _difference_. But you were fine, weren't you? You were fine getting a laugh, being the clown, not having to be taken seriously, because if other people took you seriously, sooner or later you'd have to start doing so yourself.

EBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBEBE

He was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You figured it out once, that you'd only lived in any one place for at most a year-and-a-half until the time you were eleven, at which point your mom had put her foot down and said, "You need to go, Frank, you go. But we're not picking up and going with you again. Look at her. She needs roots. She needs _friends_."

And, against your wishes, you had them, almost without wanting them. At first there was just one kid who wouldn't leave you alone until he got you to smile, and you were old enough to think, _Ech, boys_ , but it turned out not to be like that. He just saw how much you needed to smile, and, thinking now, under the stars, you understand that he needed you more than anything.

And he had friends. You were never big on friends, whatever your mom thought, but Takaki told you, "No, no, they're cool, trust me. Takaki no never lie!" and bowed dramatically, and of course you laughed and said, "Oh my god, stop, you loser, okay, we'll hang out."

Billy was like your dad. You liked that about him, and hated it. He was never mean, but he was full of himself, and you noticed how whenever the group couldn't decide what they wanted to do, the other boys tended to bend to his ideas. You were used to pushing back, though, and whatever he'd suggest, even if the others agreed, even if _you_ agreed, you'd scoff and say, "That sounds lame."

The first time you met Edward he couldn't meet your eyes. You always held people's eyes, even as a gawky kid, but his always darted up for a second and then slipped away to his shoes.

You have only started to like like Edward in the past six months. You don't know where it comes from, or why. In the past you felt like there was something missing in him, like he needed to be taken care of, and you were happy to do it. You had never looked after anyone before.

Lately you've started to notice the smallest things about him, from the way he nervously messes with his hair when he doesn't know what to say to the way he sometimes looks off into space when he's walking and trips over his own feet. The most enticing thing that he does is when lunch is being prepared, when he crinkles his brow and goes into deep concentration and somehow knows exactly when and how to do everything, like despite everything, he's in control.

No, that's not true. The most enticing thing he does, you think, sleepless in your sleeping bag, is say your name.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 21

There was a bonfire waiting for them the second night. The tents had been moved to the outer edges of the central clearing, and after the kids came back from their hikes, foraging mushrooms with their guides watchfully advising them on which were safe to eat and which, as a pimple-flared guide named Brandon had told one group, would leave them, "shitting your guts out, literally, until your heart stops," they came back into the clearing with legs aching and red from bramble scratches and bearing small burlap bags of mushrooms for the guides to comb through to weed out the toadstools for safety and liability reasons and found a huge pit piled with kindling that several green-shirted employees were bent over with grill lighters, trying to get the fire going.

There was a grill to the side of the clearing already giving off the acrid smell of burning charcoal, burger patties stacked high on a plastic tray beside it, packages of buns and sliced white cheese at the ready, a bin of sliced onions at its foot, but as the train of high school students wove its way around the clearing, everyone's attention (but Edward's) was focused on the bonfire struggling to be born. The older boys let out a few catcalls, and then someone's lighter caught fuel, and within a minute, the corner of the bonfire was guttering with fire struggling to stand upright. Within three, before the last of the students had made their way around the clearing, the air was blazing, sparks flying, and full of smoke, the relieved campground employees stepping away, foreheads grimed with sweat, and clapping one another on the shoulder before moving on to prepare dinner.

"Shit, I bet someone lost their eyebrows just now," Takaki said to Edward. "You think?"

"Maybe," Edward said. He was barely listening, his eyes trained on the spreads of sliced cheese beside the grill. "I wonder what kind of cheese that is. Swiss, you think?"

Takaki, who'd been entranced by the bonfire, blinked and looked Edward's way. "I dunno, cheese is cheese."

Edward flinched as if struck and leveled a withering glare at Takaki. "Cheese is _not_ cheese. And with mushrooms of this caliber, they need to be paired with the correct cheese."

He knew that if Bella was here she wouldn't necessarily understand, but she would try to.

"It's probably cheddar," Caddy said from over their shoulders.

"It's white," Takaki said, as if to someone brain-damaged.

"There's white cheddar," Caddy said, with the same tone.

"I'm gonna go ask," Edward said, and walked away, firelight dancing along his back.

Forty minutes later, the campers were circled around the bonfire, the remnants of burgers on paper plates at their feet, some still wiping melted cheese and caramelized onions from between their fingers. Imperceptibly, through the gradual movement of chairs, they had segregated themselves into groups, small gaps closing together here and widening there, so that Edward, Takaki, and Caddy found themselves huddled in one section of the circle. Takaki, halfway through his second burger, set his plate down, sucked the juice from his fingers, and belched.

"That really hit the spot," he announced.

"Ugh, smells like it," Caddy said, waving a hand in front of her nose.

"It was good," Edward said hesitantly. "I wouldn't have minded some sautéed spinach on top, but…" He shrugged.

"Maybe you should tell them that," Caddy said, leaning in, teasing, but unusually close. "In a year you could be running the place."

"Nah, too far away," he said without a thought.

"To _what?_ " Takaki asked.

"Home," Edward said.

Caddy was smiling at him. "So you want to stay close to home?"

Before Edward could answer, Takaki interjected, " _Why?_ Home sucks."

"Yeah, but…everything I care about is there."

Takaki snickered. "Gay." He paused, then straightened up suddenly. "I mean, I'm not, like…I don't mean _gay_ gay…I don't have anything against being gay…I mean, I think everyone should be gay!"

"Lucky for you," Caddy said.

The sun was down, the sky a bruised violet containing only a bare memory of light. Some of the campers were retreating to their tents, chaperones patrolling to make sure there were no boys and girls slipping away together. Edward, Caddy, and Takaki fell into silence for some minutes, feeling the fire, listening to the pops of exploding wood, tracing the small showers of sparks.

"I'm cold," Caddy suddenly announced.

Edward, who had a blanket draped over the back of his chair, immediately reached back. "Here, I'm getting kinda chilly too. Let's share."

He slid his chair closer to Caddy's, who seemed lit up as if the fire was contagious, and carefully covered her, tucking in the edge of the blanket over the far side of her, ignorant of the way she was watching him closely the entire time. After, he glanced up at her. "You good?"

She beamed at him. "I'm great." She waited for something in that moment to fill the pregnant pause that she dreamed, long slow seconds in which her eyes locked with Edward's, and then he looked away, toward Takaki.

"You good, man?"

Takaki looked down ostentatiously at his own blanket, an electric number his parents had picked up from Williams Sonoma that was glowing orange around the edges.

"Takaki vedy warm!" he exclaimed, and flashed a double thumbs up with a shit-eating grin.

"Takaki vedy loud," Caddy said.

"Racist," Takaki muttered.

There had been no bite or even playfulness in what Caddy had said, though; she had spoken out of pure habit. Her eyes were glowing like the faraway stars they could see through the canopy of the overhead trees, and she was leaning like a drunken ship in Edward's direction, even as Edward was speculating about whether the onions here were locally sourced.

"That's Orion," Takaki said, head back, tendrils of his hair brushing the place between his shoulder blades. "The hunter."

"Shug would love this," Edward murmured, and Caddy and Takaki, each in their own way, were too spellbound to notice.

Caddy looked over to Edward and resisted the feminine urge inside her to touch his hair where it had fallen out of place as he thought of home, The Robinsons, even that mangy disgusting drooling monstrosity that shouldn't be called a cat, but most of all his Bella. He decided then that he would never be this far away from home again, no, not without them, without her. Her and the world she built. The world she had let him into.

He was jarred from his thoughts that felt much like sand being milled into concrete when Caddy said quite suddenly, "Let's take a selfie."

"Um, alright." Edward pulled together a quick smile to acknowledge she had even spoken.

She whipped out her phone in its camouflage case and unlocked the screen. She turned it outwards and pushed herself closer to Edward. She grinned widely and Edward smiled the same unsure smile. Flash.

"So cute, totally posting this," she said and began filtering and tagging, and finally uploading.

The brisk air soon became too much for the three of them. They said their goodnights and Edward and Takaki retreated back to their unfortunately constructed tent for a well deserved night of slumber.

What no one knew was that there was a certain person who was not asleep and would not be sleeping, for all they could think is I've pushed him away, yes, I finally have.

AN/ Hi all! We are so sorry for the lack of updates! I took on a full time job and my fiancé stared a new job, so it's really just been crazy hectic. We have not given up on this story and plan to be posting more frequently. Thanks for all your encouraging reviews and welcome new readers Keep the reviews coming and feed us the creative life blood we crave.


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